Abnormal
by PalaeoPanthalassa
Summary: It's not merely survival of the fittest in the slums of Arkham City, but survival of the luckiest. So far Clara has been lucky but she can't help but wonder when her luck will run out, she can only hope it's not before she figures a way to escape out of the nightmare.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** IMPORTANT to note that this story has nothing to do with my old story 'If You Were Normal', except that I kept the same name (Clara) for the main character, though I may change this if anyone thinks its confusing. Anyway, on with the story.

This is an eventual Croc/OC, but a rather slow developing one.

Constructive criticism welcome.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Uncertain Mind  
**

Water streamed down the sides of the old crumbling building, rain pattered loudly upon the cracked pavement. Clara ducked into a low lit side-street and crouched below a overhanging balcony, the cloudy sky above hiding much of the icy moon's light. She tugged at her mud-soaked uniform, the red was dark brown under all the dirt, a small circle of blue with a white cross was just barely visible upon her shoulder.

Shivering, she listened. The rain was a constant buzz and drowned out sounds that would normally have been much more apparent, it cloaked the possible sound of any approaching footsteps; Clara hated this. She tightened her arms around her, curling in upon herself for warmth.

There were pressing matters within her life that needed to be resolved immediately, but Clara liked to pretend that they were not there. She had been stuck in Arkham City for over two weeks now, and during that time she had danced with death repetitively, little access to food or water and with the constant danger of being caught and killed by the others imprisoned within the compound.

Clara only dealt with problems when she had no other choice, within her mind she liked to live elsewhere, but what could she do when there was no way to deal with the problem? Escape was the only answer, but she was yet to figure out how.

Only mere hours ago the place she had been sleeping in, her only shelter from the elements and cold of the oncoming winter, a ruin of a house missing much of its wall, had been found by others. And so she had ran, with no other choice she sought a new home, no matter how hard to find.

For a while she rested, and time seemed to slow down for what could have been minutes but may have been hours, all Clara knew was that when she next looked up, drawn to reality by the harsh shouts of approaching voices, was that the rain had stopped falling.

'Hey! A bit far off ya patch, aren't ya, ladies?' shouted one voice, much closer than comfortable.

Hunkering down further against the wall, Clara peeked out from the shadows, fighting to keep her breathing quiet.

They were not shouting at her though, Clara could see from where she was, that two patrols from rival gangs had just crossed paths and were now sizing each other up. She recognised the insignias, white paint and colour for one group, warped rubber masks for the other; Joker's and Two-Face's gangs.

'Screw you! We own this town!' shouted back a man with a twisted smile painted upon his face, and immediately he was backed up by a chorus of yells from his group. There were more people in the Joker's patrol than Two-Face's, and they knew it.

'Oh yeah? Well word is that your boss isn't going to be around much longer, guess we'll just have to help ourselves to _**his**_ town.'

'Tough talk coming from a newcomer! Joker has been here since the beginning, ain't no way Two-Face has got anything on us!'

The rival gangs appeared to be about to engage in combat, Clara watched, her nervous thoughts were darting between the idea of waiting out until the fight was over or fleeing while they were distracted.

But the fight never broke out, for at that moment a series of shots rang out. One of Two-Face's men had somehow got his hands on a handgun, a weapon not regularly seen in the compound due to regulation - steel pipes, chains and crowbars were more commonly used.

Joker's patrol party was now fleeing, though two lay sprawled upon the ground unmoving. Two-Face's patrol gave chase and ran after them. The two groups quickly disappeared from sight but she could hear them both long after they were gone, Clara listened to them over her pulse beating loudly in her ears.

Then her gaze fell upon the sprawled bodies.

'You better be quick.' said a voice to her left.

Clara looked over her shoulder and saw her brother, Dereck, was standing nearby. He smiled at her and crossed his arms. She frowned at him uncomfortably.

'If you don't hurry up, the other's will be back and there won't be anything left for you.' he continued. 'Come on, I mean it _isn't_ like you're _starving_ and own_ nothing_ but the tatty uniform you've still got on from Mercy's.'

'It is not an opportunity I can afford to ignore.' she agreed. 'Warn me if you hear anyone coming back.'

She listened out once more for anyone nearby, then she darted out from her cover and ran to the unmoving men.

Part of her mind cringed as she crouched down to rummage through their pockets for spoils, telling her it was wrong to steal from anyone let alone disrespect the dead in this way, but she was desperately hungry, unarmed and without any useful possessions other than the uniform she still wore from her psychiatric unit. Her notebook and pen were precious to her, but they could not be used to open tins nor cut and mend material, nor were they edible.

Blanking out any empathy she might have held for the two dead people, she tried to tell herself to think of the situation as a shopping opportunity rather than a theft. She grabbed a black beanie off of one of them, placing it over her cold head. Her hair was only just beginning to grow back, the ordelies had thought it best she had it shaved off before she was placed within this 'correctional facility', they had said it was so she would draw less attention to herself.

Clara had naively thought the place she was being sent to was safe, but Clara knew the truth now, and she recalled the last words she had shared with her nurse only too bitterly:

_ 'And the more dangerous patients, and the prisoners from Blackgate. They will be segregated, right?' Clara had asked nervously._

_ 'Pff, I can't think why they wouldn't be, sweetheart. It's not like they plan to lock you all up together in the hopes that you'll all kill each other.'_

A nearby groan brought her abruptly out of her musings, prompting her to drop the empty mint and cigarette packets she had found in her rummaging. Her eyes darted downward and to the next man along, whom she still hadn't investigated yet.

To both her horror and surprise he was still breathing, still moving, and even as she looked he choked and shuddered.

'Well it's your time to shine now, Clara.' said Dereck, walking into view. 'You going to help him?'

Clara ignored him, frozen on the spot, conflict tearing at her mind to the point she did not know what to do next.

'He is practically already a dead man.' she said eventually, trying to reason her immorality, gaze turning to Dereck. 'Joker's patrol are not going to come back to rescue him and when Two-Face's gang find him again they'll kill him.'

'He's not dead at the moment.' Dereck pointed out, shrugging his shoulders.

Clara frowned again, her hands twitching. She eyed the still living man's puffer jacket, it had no arms so she could easily see the deep pockets by the man's hip; would it really be so bad to steal something if someone else was bound to steal otherwise anyway?

Her stalling cost her precious time though, and quite suddenly she was aware of the sound of approaching voices again.

'You should probably get out of here.' Dereck suggested.

Without thinking, Clara grabbed the injured man under his shoulders and dragged him out of view to where she had been hiding before, she then hunkered down and hid as well. Holding the sleeves of her shirt over his mouth so that his choking would not give them away.

It was Two-Face's patrol returning, they took one look at the remaining dead man, kicked him, then moved on. Clara released her hold on the injured man's jaw, and turned to look down at him pitifully. The injured man began choking again and Clara saw blood staining his teeth.

'Do you know what to do?' her brother asked, peering down at the dying man.

Memories and experiences of a lifetime that seemed so distant as to be figments of a dream came streaming back, and with little thought Clara found herself acting accordingly. She took off the man's jacket and used it to prop up his head, being careful not to twist his neck. She held a hand to his neck, and felt his heart beating too slowly, bradycardia. She looked to his face and saw that his eyes were open and looking at her, he then shuddered and his fingers make a weak attempt to curl in upon themselves.

'It's going to be alright.' she found herself reassuring him automatically as she pulled back his shirt to look at his injuries. One bullet wound, straight through the chest.

Clara knew immediately that he had a punctured lung, and possibly more with the weakness the man was demonstrating. This normally should not have necessarily been fatal in the modern world they lived in, but she already knew there was nothing she could do. She pulled a sock from her pocket, which she had previously used as a cloth, and pressed down over the injury nonetheless. But she knew a simple bandage or compression wouldn't do, the internal injuries were too great.

The man was passing away before her own eyes, skin turning ashen while his choking became feebler.

'I think we're losing him, doc.' joked Dereck.

Clara slapped her brother and turned to snarl at him: 'I am not a doctor!'

Then she turned away from him and pressed down upon the dying man's wound again.

'But you could have been.' Dereck chided. 'If you know, you hadn't gone completely crazy.'

Clara shivered, but it was not from the cold, she refused to give her brother further bait.

'I have other priorities now.' she bit out in a toneless voice. 'Even if it means acting some sort of foul vulture, or monster, taking whatever advantages I can just to stay alive, no matter what the cost to anyone else, I must survive.' And she returned to her original mission.

She took the dying man's jacket for herself. Her thoughts turned bitter at her own self pity, she helped herself to the man's belt, shoes and even his bloodstained shirt. And all the while he was still alive.

The man was still twitching some minutes after she had abandoned trying to help him, but Clara believed he was no longer consciously aware of his surroundings and thus mercifully not aware of the cold or pain from being shot.

'Are you going to take anything for yourself?' she asked her brother after a while, pointing out to the remaining dead man in the street. 'This stuff is mine, and I'm not sharing.'

'Of course not, you know I can't.' scoffed Dereck, then gestured to the perfectly clean and ironed brown and white work suit he wore. 'Besides, I've already got perfectly adequate clothing.'

Clara blinked at him astonished.

'How did you...' she began, but then she remembered. 'I'm sorry. I forgot; you don't exist anymore.'

And she turned away from him, and gathered the items she had stolen, counting to ten in her head.

When she looked back, Dereck was gone.

* * *

Clara pulled the shoelace she had driven through her old uniform shirt with a stolen pen knife. It had been a week since she had stolen from the dying man, and in that time she had began to convert her old shirt into a bag of sorts, so as to make it easier for her to carry around collected items from place to place while she scavenged. And now her work was complete.

Her newest home, of many since arriving here, was underneath a rotten wooden porch, which she could just about squeeze under and was so dark that no one was likely to see her if they looked in without the aid of a torch. She wasn't having much luck with food though, and hunger was always on her mind, as was fatigue.

For a moment she rested her head, as always she faced away from the wall to keep a look out, she could faintly see the street beyond illuminated by the moonlight. Her thoughts drifted to food, she thought of junk food, of sugar sweet soda and vinegar coated chips. For a moment she smiled at the thought, then she began to move closer to sleep.

Abruptly she was falling, the sky above her was a sharp blood red and the only surface she could grab onto to stop her fall were sharp and jagged rocks that jutted out of the cliff face, battering and bruising her whenever she tried to reach for them. The air around her feverishly hot, choking her whenever she tried to breath.

Clara jolted awake and sat up the best she could in the cramped space, hyperventilating. She looked around at her surroundings, reassuring herself that she was still in the increasing cold of Arkham city and not elsewhere. Subconsciously one hand drifted to the left side of her face where a jagged scar stretched down from the top of her cheek reaching nearly to her lip.

She shook her head fiercely and chewed her lip, refusing to reconsider the memory any more at that moment. Hunger gnawed at her stomach and she knew that if she didn't eat soon she risked running too low on energy to be able to gather any more in the future. She could run fast now but she would run exhausted, it would be worse if she was slow and exhausted. She would die.

It was time to face the music again. She slipped out from her hiding spot cautiously, all the while listening out for possible danger. And then, with her make-shift bag upon her back, she set off into the night.

* * *

She was not an idiot. Clara repeated this to herself as she hid, soaked to the bone, back pressed up against the slippery green wall of an old bridge. Wide eyed she listened for the telltale sound of running feet. She did not want to be caught, she knew what would happen if she was. This was a new level of danger really, Clara had never dared venture this close to the heart of Two-Face's territory before, but she needed the food, and she knew whom nearest to her would be most likely to have a lot of it.

Perhaps it had been idiotic to venture here, but it was all about survival. Everything now was about weighing the odds out, what was worth what? What was worth the risk? For the example, the stolen goods she carried with her now in her makeshift bag, said goods consisting of several tins of food and a pair of scissors – were they worth the risk she had just taken? A wager that given her life did not end that night that she would have something to eat later, just so that she could repeat the whole process again when she ran out of food once more.

She froze and held her breath as two thugs stormed past her hiding place, half of the masks their wore on their faces eerily warped.

There were reasons other than distance that had made her target Two-Face's territory, as far as she knew from what she had overheard so far was that his gang was no particularly stable yet, apparently it was 'still finding it feet', though she was not so naïve as to think that this meant this 'heist' was safe. She had a keen fear of Joker's territory, having had most of her previous shelters found out by his patrols, she was more than eager to stay away from that area of the city. She knew little of the third gang run by the Penguin, she understood it was in a relatively small area but also highly fortified – not that she had ever dared wander close enough to see if this was really the case.

She waited for a few moments more before she dashed from her hiding space, making for the shadows in an alcove just a few meters up ahead, just as another one of the thugs dropped down from the balcony above to follow after the others. She scrambled to a halt and immediately gave herself away.

'What the-' the thug barely had time to notice her before she was running away in the opposite direction. Adrenaline had bitten in sharply and she wished to put as much room between her and the gang as possible.

'Over here! The little shit is over here!' she heard them shout, the pounding of her feet on the ground and the pulse of her life in her head drowned out much else.

She couldn't hear how far behind her they there, she couldn't tell if the there were any up ahead, but given that she was smack down right near the middle of Two-Face's territory, it would be very unlikely that they weren't.

Sure enough she spotted more nonchalantly standing around up ahead, not yet aware of her intrusion. She darted into a side alley, and hid behind a dumpster. Up ahead of her was a dead end, a three story wall with nothing to grip onto. She hoped they would pass by, she really hoped!

'Down there!'

But they were getting closer. Clara looked up and around herself frantically, wondering whether or not climbing on top of the dumpster would help her reach anything that would allow her to scale the wall. She felt cold metal below her hands and realised that she was crouched directly over a drainage cover, she pulled it up immediately and scrambled down. She could only just fit, the tunnel around her was not forgiving, and without much room to move it was hard to scramble very fast along it.

'Quick! Get down there!' She heard them pulling drainage cover back further, the shuffling of many agitated feet echoed in the tunnel.

'Man, I can't see shit! Has anyone got a light?'

She continued scrambling along, not bothering about how much noise she made now, it was too late anyway, she pushed her precious loot ahead of her, but it was greatly slowing her down and worse now was that she didn't even have the option to get rid of it, there simply wasn't enough room in the tunnel to get rid of any of it.

'There is someone down there! Aw, hell, they are way back! How are we supposed to reach them now?'

Clara received an answer to this only moments later when the smell of smoke wafted along the tunnel and engulfed her. She couldn't look back over her shoulder, but she was fairly certain they had started a fire, this only added to her incentive to move further along the tunnel.

She continued scrambling for what felt like hours, and still she could smell the smoke. She feared she would suffocate, there was little air in the tunnel to begin with, but then the tunnel opened up into a much larger area.

It must have been an old sewer system she decided as she looked around, though it obviously hadn't been running in a long time. The only water draining into here now was from the narrow drainage tunnels, such as the one she had just crawled down. Clara had already long since learned that none of the taps in Arkham city worked, the facility was not provided with water on a regular basis. In fact she didn't know where the others here even got it from, she had initially stolen it from them but soon learned that water was very heavy and running helter-skelter down a slippery street could be fatal if said prize was not quickly relinquished.

She tossed her bag of tins onto a nearby walkway, then shimmied over herself after it. She quickly checked on her goods to make certain that they were all there, making sure that she hadn't accidentally dropped any into the water, then she looked around for a way out. By logic's sense there had to be an exit somewhere nearby because of all the access walkways, all she needed to do was look around for a metal ladder already soldered into the wall and sure enough she would find a drainage cover at the top.

Clara did a double take when she caught sight of her reflection in the water below, thinking for a moment that someone was already down there with her. She kneeled beside the water and took one forlorn look at her reflection, her face was grubby with dirt, the scar on her cheek accentuated by the filth. She looked nothing like she remembered, she didn't look like Clara. But quite frankly she didn't want to be Clara right now.

Then Dereck's reflection showed up beside hers.

'How about you be someone else?' he suggested. 'You don't have to be Clara anymore if you don't want to. No one here is going to stop you, no one here knows any better.'

'I don't want to be anyone else.' Clara replied brokenly. 'I liked who I am.'

'Liked. See? Try being someone else while you don't like you.'

'I just want to get out of here.' she ignored him, but then gave his suggestion some thought. 'I need a plan, though I guess being someone else might help in the meantime.'

It was all part of her plan, she told herself, not that her plan was very intricate. She wanted to escape the confines of Arkham city, that was her main goal other than survival. A change of character was necessary, she had told herself many times, she needed to be someone else. She could not be vulnerable, though she was, so she had to tell herself that she wasn't. It was all fairly familiar territory with her, she had told herself stories before, told herself false truths, she did not find it hard to make them up.

'I'll be Kelly.' she replied.

'No you won't, doesn't sound tough enough.' scoffed Dereck, sitting down to polish his shoes with one sleeve.

'Leia?'

'Absolutely not. Maybe something more ambiguous, or masculine.'

Clara looked at her reflection once more, her hair closely cropped to her skull and her grubby skin. 'How about Carl?'

The face that looked back at her – a desperate exhausted face with tired eyes and sunken cheeks - so different than what she remembered, but that suited her just fine, she could just pretend that it wasn't her. It went with her new tale, her new persona - perhaps Carl - wasn't doing so well, but Clara was just fine.

'No, no , no.' said Dereck shaking his head, abruptly interrupting her train of thought. 'I don't like that name at all. I've got a much better idea, you can be called Dereck!'

'But that's your name.' she replied, exasperated. 'What's wrong with Carl?'

'Because it's too close to your real name.' he said, putting his hands in his pockets and then grinned. 'Besides, Dereck is a very good name, who wouldn't want to be named after me?'

'I am not Dereck.' she replied and set about opening one of the tins of baked beans she had, covering the tin with a piece of cloth to muffle the noise as she struck repeatedly at the metal with a rock until it warped. She pierced the stretched metal with her pocketknife and ripped it open.

So Clara was **_not_** Carl, but nor was she Clara, in fact she wasn't sure she was really anyone; she sure didn't feel like it.

'Why not Dereck?' her brother continued, dusting off the shoulders of his suit.

'Because if I was then you wouldn't exist.' she replied, wolfing down the contents of the tin.

'On the contrary, if you didn't exist, I still would.' Dereck said, walking away from her.

Clara bit her tongue, immediately regretting her words.

'...a tin opener would be useful.' Clara said abruptly, trying to ignore what had just been said. 'I haven't seen any lying around though, probably worth more than their weight in gold in this prison compound, right? Dereck?'

But her mind had now caught up with reality again, and Dereck had vanished.

She shook her head furiously and tried to focus on her breathing. She counted to 10 again, then looked back down at what tonight's excursion had been all about; food. She considered opening a second tin, but then contemplated how gluttony was not something she could afford, when something thudded dully nearby.

She froze.

It was a quiet sound, she would not have even heard if she had still been eating. The water nearby lapped lazily against the wall opposite her, but that made no sense - this place was disused.

Abruptly the waters in front of her exploded, waves cascading in every direction and splashing loudly in the tunnels. Something huge and dark had lurched out of the water and onto the walkway she had been sitting on only moments before, but Clara didn't get a clear look because she was already running.

Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Clara fled screeching in terror down a rusted metal walkway, the metal chains supporting the segments groaned warningly with each step she took.

She heard the monster try to pursue her, the whip like crack of metal when the chains holding up the walkway behind her broke; whatever her pursuer was, falling back into the water again with an almighty splash.

Clara glanced back over her shoulder and saw that her pursuer had disappeared, completely vanished from sight. She didn't stop running though, frantically she scanned for an exit of any kind, a ladder, another drainage tunnel leading to the surface. It was then she became aware of the lack of weight upon her back, the chafing of cloth around her neck. Her backpack! Her food!

She skidded to a halt and looked back, she could no longer see around the bend where she had been before but with no sign of her bag now she knew she had left it there.

She was presented with yet another decision, was the return worth it? Was the risk worth it?

'Clang!'

The answer came immediately as a resounding NO, when without warning huge clawed hands gripped the side of the walkway and dug in, there was a reptilian like hiss and the metal began to buckle like it was made out of cardboard.

Clara narrowly avoided being thrown into the water by leaping onto the next platform, using one of the monstrous arms attached to the crushing hands as leverage by kicking off from it.

There was a growl behind her and she heard the air whistle behind her as it swiped at her, then there was the popping and crumbling of the cement above them as the chain rivets were bodily ripped free from their holdings.

It was no safer on the walkway than it was in the water.

And then salvation, she spotted a tunnel like the one she had exited. She dove into it, clawing and kicking for all she was worth as scrambled inwards and away from the main tunnel. Terrified of being caught half in and defenseless, she had no idea how fast she was moving, no idea how far she was from the main tunnel she had just left.

There was a bestial roar behind her and something violently knocked one of her shoes to one side. She heard the claws catch on the side of the tunnel and tear at the concrete. Immediately Clara pulled her feet up to her body, curling in on herself in the narrow tunnel, crushing herself but willing to sacrifice her comfort for her retention of her limbs.

She could now see back down the tunnel, and saw to her horror one of the same hands that had crushed the metal walkway reaching in after her, trying to catch hold of her and hook her out, its owner too large to fit in the tunnel after her.

Wryly she thought of the old rumours of alligators living in the sewers as she noted the dark green scales upon the clawed hand, it didn't look human, this didn't seem real and Clara wondered if perhaps if her mind had completely cracked and she was imaging everything. Her memories then darted back to her general knowledge of Gotham before her incarceration and she remembered the terrifying tales of Killer Croc the cannibal. She tugged herself a little further along the tunnel using just her hands before she was certain enough that it was safe for her to use her feet and scramble away.

The beast roared at her down the tunnel, giving up on trying to pull her out. The tunnel seemed to shudder as there was a loud thud. The monster growled and then there was a loud splash. There was no further noise as Clara frantically scrambled further and further away.

* * *

A/N: Killer Croc doesn't make much of an appearance in this chapter, but he will become progressively more important as the story goes on.

**Quick summary of this chapter:**

Having been chased out of yet another of her temporary hideouts, Clara is on the run and in search of a new home. Tired and cold, she rests from the rain under shelter. Nearby a fight breaks out between Joker's and Two-Face's gangs. Two men are shot, and in the aftermath Clara goes out to steal what she can off the corpses. One of the men is still alive, and remembering some of her medical training, Clara tries to save him but fails. All the while imagining her brother is with her, only to then remember that that isn't possible as he is no longer around.

About a week later she tries to steal food from Two-Face's gang but fails, she only narrowly escapes into the sewer system where they can't follow her. Here she begins to imagine her brother is talking to her again, she delays finding a way out because of this. Killer Croc is in the vicinity and hears her, desperately hungry himself, he frantically tries to catch and eat her. Clara is lucky for a second time that night though, and manages to escape.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** IMPORTANT to note that this story has nothing to do with my old story 'If You Were Normal', except that I kept the same name (Clara) for the main character, though I may change this if anyone thinks its confusing - I honestly can't remember why I did this, I think it was because I have been planning this story for more or less the same time since I stopped writing the last one so the name just transferred.

Constructive criticism welcome.

* * *

**Chapter 2 **

**Risk**

There was only two ways of obtaining food in Arkham city. One method was being around when the food drops were delivered – which was suicide as the_ big three_ had all long since staked a claim to these sites – while the second was stealing - whether from the dead or living all depended on the circumstances.

Clara always had to be on the alert for fights, and she knew that every night there were many more fights between the gangs that she simply wasn't near enough to hear or witness. Relying on finding anything useful on the dead was a risky strategy as everyone else in the facility often had exactly the same idea on their minds. To be able to get anything useful, she needed to be first on the scene, which was rarely the case.

Someone living would be much more likely to have something on them. But would also be far more dangerous to deal with.

It really hadn't been planned, but Clara had stumbled across him by completely accident, and while she waited for him to pass by so that she could leave, she had noticed that he was travelling completely alone and wandering noticeably far from any of the established borders of Two-Face's territory: she saw weakness. But the truth was that while the man might seem relatively weak when compared to a majority of those within the facility, when in comparison to her this was probably not the case. She chose to ignore this fact.

It was a stranger with a large rucksack upon his back. A rucksack that was bound to be filled with something; Clara's thoughts had immediately jumped to the idea of food. There was no real plan, Clara just saw the bulging rucksack upon the loner's back and thought of what it might contain. She was starving, and it was this state of being that overrode the very reality that she was not actually that strong and the fact that she was also alone.

So, deviating from her usual pattern of behaviour, she had started following him with the full intent of theft.

She knew her safest method would be to snatch the bag and run, but unfortunately this would be impossible. The straps of the bag were around the man's shoulders, she knew that she would not be able to simply rip it off him. The only way she would be able to get it off him was if she could convince him to let go of it; and here in Arkham there was only one way that she knew would work.

But all she had on her that could be used as a method of persuasion was a small penknife, and now even her hunger crazed mind was beginning to have doubts about how effective this would be. Killing was out of the question, she doubted she even would be able to if she had wanted to, the danger to her own life in getting so close was too risky to be worthwhile. Instead she needed to keep her distance, and threaten to inflict the harm that she couldn't; there was another problem here though - apart from the fact that she had never done anything like this before and didn't really know what she was doing - it was that she didn't even know if he was armed.

It was because of this train of thought that she still had yet to make a move, though she had pursued him for some distance now, keeping far back and being careful to avoid detection.

Ahead of her, the target paused to look back. Clara quickly pressed herself against a wall and blending into the shadow, hoping that she hadn't been seen.

The immorality of what essentially would be a mugging, didn't factor into the equation of her decision. Clara didn't really have a choice, and was too hungry to care right at this moment, too desperate from only having a chance of getting something to eat more than once every other day. _'These are dangerous people, they would do exactly the same to you without a second thought.' _she told herself as she handled the penknife hidden in her pocket.

The stranger bore no symbols of allegiance on his clothes, but up until now he had seemed to have been heading towards the Penguin's territory. Clara was actually getting a little concerned at how close they were getting, and knowing that she wasn't necessarily going to get anything out of following the stranger any further, she was now beginning to consider whether it was time to cut her losses and just leave.

The place the target had stopped in front of was the ruins of an old house, only one of its four walls were still relatively intact and the ceiling was gone altogether. He was now looking around, checking to see if anyone was nearby, Clara grit her teeth and kept her eyes firmly locked on him, hoping that he hadn't caught on that he was being followed.

Time was always a precious thing, and it was something she would lose if she gave up now. Time lost when she could have been looking elsewhere. Her thoughts drifted back to the bag she had left in the sewer around a week before, it had contained perhaps enough tins to last a further week at least, and it was possible it was still there. This was not the first time she had thought about this fact.

But then she remembered claws, crumbling metal and the beast that tried to consume her, and she felt some sort of primal fear that filled her with dread whenever she considered going back there.

And ultimately, like everytime she had considered it before, Clara decided the risk simply wasn't worth it.

The target had now finished surveying his surroundings and was heading into the ruin, Clara followed after him despite her instinct telling her to stay away from enclosed spaces. _'It will be easier to corner him, he won't be able to run away._' she argued in her head, but then realised the same logic would also apply to her if things turned nasty_._

She tested the weight of the penknife in her hand again, then flicked the blade open.

Pausing at the entrance to the ruin, she listened carefully before looking in, wondering what significance the building held to her target; was it perhaps a hideout or had he noticed her and was trying to lose her? She could hear him walking away from her, then there was a thump before the sound of him moving yet further away continued.

Clara stepped through the open doorway, from which the door had long since fallen away from, and quickly raised her blade to chest height, only to find the place empty. It was then that she spotted the hole in the ground, the tiles seemingly having just crumbled inwards. She moved closer and saw that she could see through to a train track. The stranger had gone underground.

Cautiously she dropped down after him, but her target was no longer anywhere in sight.

She found she was now in an underground train tunnel, and was standing on a raised platform of sorts which was supported several meters above the train rail below and was connected to a bridge that would have originally ran over the tracks. But the bridge was broken now, and half of it lay on the ground below. The only way down was by a rusty ladder that was fortunately still holding together.

She edged over to the balcony and looked down the tunnel both ways, but she still couldn't see anyone anymore.

She climbed down a rusted ladder and reached the tracks, and saw that in many parts the ground had cracked and was wrenched in two, there were several relatively large trenches in the ground as a result, showing that subway had been out of commission for several decades at least.

Seeing nothing of use or interest down here, Clara decided there was nothing for it but to call it a day and go back up. It had been a dangerous and stupid plan, and she wasn't familiar with the area she was in.

Footsteps abruptly began to come up behind her and instinctively she bolted forward, and narrowly avoided being cracked over the head with a brick.

'Did you think I wouldn't notice you?' the stranger bellowed, keeping the brick raised and advancing towards her again. He was old and haggard, his eyes sunken deep into his face, and he looked every bit as desperate as she did. 'If you don't leave off now, I'm going to smash your face in, you understand!?'

Seeing nothing for it, Clara drew out her pathetic penknife and held it aloft.

'H-hand over the bag, or e-else!' she stuttered, waving the knife, but her attempt to sound dangerous had already fallen flat, her voice and posture was all wrong, high pitched in fear and cowering.

'You think I'm scared of you, punk?' snarled the stranger, then he charged at her again. 'Leave off now!'

Clara stepped backward quickly, only to find herself falling backwards into one of the trenches in the ground. There was earth on either side of her, separated by gap that was so narrow that she couldn't turn around, and for a terrifying moment Clara thought she was trapped. But then she realised it was also only about 3 feet deep and she could easily climb out, she struggled to get up but already the stranger had appeared over the top, and he was readying himself to finish her off while she was temporarily immobilized.

'Please don't!' she begged. 'I was just hungry!'

'We all are.' he stated, drawing his arm back.

And then the ground began to shake.

For a terrifying moment Clara thought that somehow despite the cracked railings and the warped track, a train was thundering down the track at them and prepared to stay as still as possible when it passed over the top of the hole she had fallen into. Above her the stranger looked away from her for one moment, and then a terrified look passed over his face. He dropped the brick and ran.

Then a bone chilling roar filled the air, and something immense and charging did pass over her hiding spot but it wasn't a train.

The man barely had time to start to scream before there was a thud of collision, and the air was apparently crushed from his lungs.

Twisted and awkwardly fallen where she was, Clara was neither prepared nor able to block out the sickening sounds that followed. Cracking, popping, ripping and the shrieking.

The frenzy was over in seconds, then an eerie silence filled the air. Clara heard several heavy footsteps, then a heavy thud as if something immense had just been dropped down.

Clara was too terrified to move, but she knew that she couldn't stay where she was.

By now there was noise again, ripping interspersed with occasional sharp cracks, Clara took this opportunity to rise to her feet as quietly as she could. And shaking fiercely in terror, she brought her head up to look over the edge.

And nearly fell back again in horror.

Not ten meters away, Killer Croc was sitting down with his back to her, apparently unaware of her presence. His arms were folded in front of himself, and every so often the muscle in his neck and shoulders would bunch as he pulled his head back, an action which was accompanied by a ripping sound.

Clara fought the urge to retch, she couldn't see the stranger from her angle but she could see blood, she knew what was happening.

She immediately sought escape and looked towards the way she had come in. _'That platform, focus on getting back up there!'_ she told herself over and over in her head. _'Get out now! Just run for it!'_

But Killer Croc was inadvertently acting as a giant guard dog, sitting nearly directly in her path, and there was no way she was going to risk running past him.

So gathering every bit of willpower in her, she pulled herself out of the hole and slowly got to her feet, all the while keeping her eyes locked on the danger. She began to tiptoe back towards the ladder up to the balcony. _'This is no different that normal, just be quiet as possible and everything will be okay.'_ she tried reassuring herself, but already she was being showered with doubts. Now that she needed to climb it in a hurry, the rusty ladder no longer looked as reliable, and she could only hope that it wouldn't crumple away from the wall in her hands. But it wasn't really like there were any other options, so upon reaching the ladder she firmly took hold of her metal in her hands and put her first foot up onto one of the rungs. So far so good, but when she took her second step one of the rungs snapped under foot.

Behind her, the sounds of the human feast abruptly stopped. Killer Croc was sniffing the air, deep sharp intakes of air. Clara got the image that he was smelling out his environment, but that wasn't possible, right?_ 'It isn't exactly normal to be covered in scales either.'_ her mind reminded her.

She slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder, just in time to see Croc turning around, jagged teeth dripping red. Her eyes met his for one brief second and then she was bolting up the ladder and onto the high platform, fear of breaking the rusted metal completely gone.

Behind her, Croc roared and heard the ground thunder under his feet as he gave chase.

She was already out of his reach though, past the ladder and scrambling up the rockfall that led to the surface.

* * *

Back out in the cold night air, she began to shake, grinding her teeth and eventually sliding to the ground against a wall with her hands held to her face.

After several minutes had passed in which she regained her breath and calmed her beating heart, Dereck flickered into sight several feet away, he had his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face.

'Well that went splendidly.' he said sarcastically. 'You could have died.'

'I think I would definitely include tonight in top five most scariest ever.' she replied quietly, giggling a little as her nerves got the better of her. 'But I'm still alive at least.'

'You won't be for long if you don't have anything to eat.' her brother continued. 'Do you remember how my wife Millie used to cook a sunday roast for the family? Now that was good food. Ever wonder what happened to Millie?'

Clara had closed her eyes, doing her best to ignore him.

'You need to go back.' Dereck commented presently. 'That bag the stranger was carrying, there must be food in there.'

'There might not be.' Clara replied, then cringing as she realised she had replied to the hallucination.

'You won't know if you don't try. Far as I can see there is a free meal just lying around down there just waiting for someone to come along and pick it up.'

'Yeah, and giant mouse trap of green scales and fangs waiting to snap shut beside it.' she replied.

'Well scale face can't stay there all night, right? If he doesn't see you, he'll leave as soon as he's finished eating.' Dereck - or rather some part of her mind - tried to encourage her.

* * *

Reasoning that she was safe as long as she remained out of reach, Clara eventually summoned the courage to go back down. Quietly as she could, she dropped back down, and immediately flattened herself against the balcony so that she was out of sight from the ground below. Over the thudding of her own heart she paused to listen again. The sounds of ripping and cracking were still audible, Croc was still there and still feeding.

Keeping low, she began to move slowly closer to the edge of the balcony. She couldn't see much from where she was though, mainly just the opposing wall and a little of the track. She decided the best thing was to wait it out, so she lay still and listened, waiting for when the monster below would depart. But in her panic she had forgotten one of his more inhuman abilities.

Below there was a sharp serpentine hiss.

'I can smell your fear. Stop hiding!' Croc growled abruptly.

If she hadn't been lying down, Clara would have leapt into the air at the unexpected voice. They were the first words she had ever heard him say, part of her having suspected that he couldn't speak at all. Even so his voice was strange, primeval.

She remained flat upon the platform, out of sight and unmoving.

Below her she heard a growl and the next moment something about the length of her forearm was thrown, it flew over her head and collided with the wall behind her with a crack. She looked and saw that it was the shattered remains of a thigh bone.

Clara rapidly scrambled to get away from it, getting to her feet and stepping backwards.

With her cover blown, Clara looked down to the floor below, and had to stop herself from simply running right then. Though Croc was indeed still eating he was also now directly facing her direction, molten inhuman eyes watching her every move.

She said absolutely nothing at all, frozen in the surreality of the situation, staring down at the terrifying monstrosity on the ground below.

Unlike the last time where everything had just been a frantic blur to escape, she could now get a proper look at him, in fact she was unable to look away, locked with morbid fascination. She had to remind herself several times that what she was looking at was indeed human, or had been at some point, because the monstrosity below her really looked like nothing she had ever seen before. Fearsome fangs seemed to almost erupt out of the sides of the creature's mouth. No lips and virtually no ears or nose, the tissue atrophied away. The clinical side of Clara found itself surfacing unceremoniously to the forefront of her mind. She could see the indent of every rib, he hadn't been eating well either.

'Want a bite?' the monster asked nastily, interrupting her train of thought with the horrific visual of him mockingly holding forth a dismembered leg. Clara visibly shrunk away, pushing herself as far back against the wall as she could. Killer Croc laughed, the sound like the fierce crackling of a fire. Clara dry heaved and looked away.

She stayed like this until she hard Killer Croc resume feeding, which she did her best to ignore, and then edged forward a little again to look over the side again in search of the rucksack. She still couldn't see it though, so she hunkered down again and waited, Croc was visible out of the corner of her vision but she made sure not to look at him, this way she could at least see if he was moving - if he decided to throw something at her again or grew bored and left when he had finished eating-

Clara remembered then exactly what Croc was eating and shivered, she wondered if it was perhaps shock that was numbing her senses to the fact that it could just as easily have been her down there in the messy pile of bones if she hadn't stumbled. If Clara had been in this situation a year before...well she wouldn't have been in this situation full stop.

'You trapped up there?' Croc asked after a while, then continued with a low laugh. 'Come on down.'

She didn't reply, she simply bit her lower lip and continued searching the ground level for her original goal. She then finally spotted the rucksack lying discarded by crushed dark mass of pointed things which could only have been ribs. Never before had Clara seen such carnage, it was unthinkable really, short of a violent plane crash a human body would never be expected to be so badly torn apart.

'Perhaps you knew him.' Croc suggested, she could see that he was holding the dead body up out of the corner of her eye. 'Is that why you're not leaving?'

Clara's gaze rounded on him angrily, the bag was close yet so far, and Croc was in the way.

'No.' she ground out, and it was the first word she had shared with anyone alive in a month. She actually startled herself with the sound, and her heart began to beat a little faster. She looked behind herself towards the exit, fearing that someone else might have heard her. She could not afford to have her only exit blocked.

'I know you.' he continued. 'You were skulking around the sewers before. You got a death wish?'

'It's just as dangerous up top.' she replied, crossing her arms and making sure to not look in his direction, she was a little worried that he might throw something again but at the same time the urge to simply not see the carnage was much stronger. Immediately she cringed. _What are you doing?! Did you honestly just speak to that monster!?_

'Grr.' the beast rumbled, losing interest in his previous victim, now fully discarding what remained of the dead man. 'Then what do you want? To stare? I don't like those that stare, but I do like to take their eyes out. Har.'

'I'm not staring at you.' she bit out quickly, wincing again at the fact that she had spoken again without thinking, her hands fluttered by her sides. The frustration grew too much, she gathered the last of her courage and balled her fists at her sides, raising her chin she turned to face Killer Croc. 'Look, I'm just food right? But you've just eaten, so you really should just save me for later. I've got a death wish, right? So I'm bound to come back down here, and you'll catch me later. I just want that freaking rucksack over there, okay? I'm starving too and if I don't eat soon I'll just go starve on the surface and die somewhere where you won't find me, and that'll be a waste of a meal, won't it?'

Croc just stared at her, jaw slightly open. Clara's hands immediately flew over her mouth, shocked at what she had just said, and she stumbled backwards into the shadows, hidden from the monster's sight. That had been a stupid move, her mind told her. She was fully ready for a volley of bones and stones to come flying her way, but that never happened.

Abruptly the tunnel filled with a deep rumbling crackle, Croc was laughing again. Clara nervously got to her feet to see what was going on from where she was.

'You trying to reason with _me_?' he asked when she reappeared again, and there was still the crackling in his voice. 'Trying to _negotiate_? Would never have figured as much.'

Clara's line of sight drifted towards where the discarded rucksack was again, wishing more than anything that she could have a giant fishing rod or something similar to wheel it to her so that she could leave. Croc followed her gaze this time, he wiped his blood stained hands clean on his trousers as he got up to investigate.

'This what you after?' he asked, the rucksack looked tiny in his hand.

She said nothing, crossing her arms defensively, but moved slightly closer to the edge.

Croc promptly turned it upside down and everything fell out, Clara was unable to stop herself crying out in frustration, thinking that he was just going to take everything for himself. Only it was then her eyes fell on what actually had fallen out of the bag. Packets and packets of cigarettes, the stranger she had been following had obviously having been a dealer of some sort, there was no sign of anything that she could have eaten and Killer Croc seemed to have noticed this too.

'You like dust?' he said, tossing the empty bag up at her. 'Or do you prefer nothing at all?'

Clara caught the bag nonetheless, frantically turning it upside down herself to check that there really was nothing left in it, ignoring the fresh blood stains upon the material. But no matter how fiercely she shook it, no further items fell from the bag. If she hadn't already felt sick to her stomach from the nearby carnage, Clara knew that she would have felt hungrier than ever then.

She tried to reassure herself. _'Focus, you just need to try again elsewhere'_, though the thought made her feel no happier. At least she had a new bag, one that wasn't made out of a recycled old shirt. This positive didn't make her feel any less hungry though.

'I don't mind you doing your starving here.' Killer Croc rumbled, bringing back down to earth, he had now moved to now stand upon the station opposite the balcony – the jump didn't look impossible. 'Come on down, I'll fix your problem permanently.'

Clara didn't reply as she scrambled back up the rockfall and out into the freezing cold night, fearing grasping ebony claws and glinting fangs.

* * *

A/N: Alright, so while we all know Croc is a brutal and vicious killer, I can't say I felt comfortable writing about his cannibalistic tendencies at all - traumatising poor Clara at the same time - but I feel that this is not an issue to be lightly danced over. While it won't make anything any easier in the long term for any eventual friendship blossoming between Clara and Croc, I think it's important that she is aware of his darker side - it wouldn't help anyone for her to remain naive to the issue.

Any progress between these two is going to be very slow, Croc doesn't trust anyone and would sooner eat someone than shake their hand. His time in Arkham having further wrecked his ability to cooperate with others (I'm assuming this because while in the past he has been known to be hired as a heavy by differents gangs, yet for the duration of his stay in Arkham City he is not shown to be working for anyone despite the fact that his sheer strength alone would make him a very desirable employee), and he had already mentioned himself before this that he generally works alone (_8th story arc _of_ Arkham Unhinged_), and even when he has been shown to work with others as in _Arkham Origins_ the way he interacted with the other inmates indicated that he is not a good team player. I personally believe this is down to him being used to other people trying to use him, e.g. (because he can't turn to the law, and doesn't have any powerful friends to back him up) past employers have hired him to get the job done and then simply decided not pay him afterwards - thinking they can get away with it (see _Arkham Asylum: patient tape 2_) - needless to say he doesn't take kindly to this treatment.

**Quick summary of this chapter:**

Clara is still having a terrible time, with still not enough to eat and now on top of things the weather is also getting very cold. One night while searching for food, she stumbles across a lone stranger with a rucksack upon his back. She assumes that the stranger must have food in the bag, and seeing that he is alone, she decides to risk stealing it. But despite her desperation, she can't summon the courage to actually jump out until its too late, and ends up following him below ground to an old subway.

However the man has by this time noticed that he is being followed, and lies in wait to catch her off guard. When Clara walks into the subway, he tries to kill her to stop her from following him (*while this isn't particularly important note, I would just like to point out that this man is just a vagrant trying to survive - he was on his way with stolen goods to Joker's side of the city in hope that he would be accepted in). Clara escapes the attack, falling down into a shallow trench - just in time to escape Killer Croc's detection. Killer Croc only sees the man at first, and immediately goes in for the kill. Clara manages to avoid being noticed just long enough to escape back to the surface.

On the surface Clara, having once again survived a traumatic event, begins to hallucinate her brother is standing beside her again. She is still starving and knows that the rucksack the man had is still below with Croc. She eventually reasons with herself that if she can avoid detection, then she can hopefully retrieve the bag once Croc is gone, so she goes back down again.

Killer Croc notices her almost immediately, but Clara doesn't leave - she is out of his reach and still intent on retrieving the rucksack. They end up talking a little (not that I would call it a conversation exactly, more like a series of threats and sinister remarks). Eventually though, Clara finds out that the bag contains no food at all after Killer Croc empties it. With nothing but an empty rucksack, and no reason to stick around any longer, Clara gets out of the tunnel as quickly as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** IMPORTANT to note that this story has nothing to do with my old story 'If You Were Normal', except that I kept the same name (Clara).

Just a quick reply to _Sunnycroc_'s review: _That has to be the nicest, sweetest review I've ever had! Thank you. :D Literally had me smiling for ages._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Dubious Deal  
**

It was somewhere around the end of October now. Clara had tried to keep track of the date to give herself a sense of the passage of time ever since she had arrived, but with her currently unpredictable lifestyle, she had inevitably lost count of a few days.

Summer had already long since ended, but this year autumn had never started. Instead, winter had decided to arrive early, and now Clara had to worry about the cold on top of everything else. She wasn't even sure she would actually be able make it through the winter outdoors if the weather got any colder; her objective of getting out of the facility as soon as possible was greater than ever if she was not to end up freezing to death in her sleep.

Making any plans outside merely surviving the night, for the duration she had been in Arkham City, had so far been nearly impossible. The two constant issues of avoiding detection and finding food took immediate precedence over everything else. Having not yet had the time to investigate the walls of the facility fully for an escape route, but at the same time reckoning that she couldn't afford not to, Clara had incorporated scouting into her regular missions as a secondary objective when she could. So far though her escape route search had been fruitless.

She took what observations she could while searching for food and other resources. But so far all she had proved to herself was that the wall of Arkham city was inpenetrable; taller than most buildings were, illuminated by night and guarded 24/7. The perfect solution to her problem would have been if she could fond an idealic spot where she would be able to dig her way out, and where no one would be able to see her doing so. But bare earth was hard to come by in this concrete jungle, and she had no means of digging her way out anyway.

Her thoughts had wandered to the sea, and wondered if escape by water might be a better solution, since she doubted there were walls there. She knew from having grown up in Gotham that the bay was not far from where she was now, but so deep in the facility with buildings so densely packed together, Clara could not see the coastline from where she was, and hadn't since before she had arrived. It didn't really matter though; she doubted that the coast was unguarded anyway, it would have been too obvious.

Currently Clara was lying on her back in the crawl space beneath a crumbling rotten porch, the space only just high enough for her to crawl under. To one side she could see last of the sun's rays were just disappearing over the horizon, it was nearly time for her to head out. While she waited, her mind had drifted, and using a pen knife she had began carving her name into the rotten wood above her.

'What are you doing?' Dereck asked, peering over her shoulder, ignoring the fact that if he had actually been there then he would not have been able to physically stand in the cramped space that Clara currently called home. 'Come on my comedic sidekick, surely you have something better to do with your time.'

She wasn't supposed to feed the illusion, that was what they had told her at Mercy. And for a while, several months before, Dereck had stopped materialising before her, only for everything to reverse when she was placed Arkham city; much of her progress lost all at once. The hallucinations had come back – tending to appear directly after she had gone through any sort of stressful situation, which unfortunately in Arkham city was pretty much every day.

Clara was supposed to ignore him.

Viciously she swiped at the carving she had started and turned her head to sneer at her brother, angry at herself for her own weakness. But there was no longer anything there for her to see, Dereck had already faded from sight; and she was alone as ever.

She sighed and put her penknife away, folding back the blade and putting it securely into one pocket. Rolling over onto her front, she began to crawl towards where decking was broken overhead, and there she paused to listen for dang_e_r. In the distance she could hear the blades of a helicopter thudding in the cold night air, and if she listened really carefully she swore she could also hear the wailing of an ambulance all the way over in regular Gotham - worlds away - but apart from that she could hear little else.

Deeming the situation as safe as it could be in an open superprison filled with convicts and maniacs, Clara moved out a little further and peeked out through the gap in the decking get a better look down the street.

The moon was high in the sky and darkness now mostly blanketed much of the city, she had the whole night ahead of her, but she still could afford no time to waste. Seeing no one around, Clara cautiously pulled herself up and out of her hiding spot, shivering a little and brushing off some of the dirt clinging to her clothes. Creeping out onto the street, she quickly sought out shadows. Stealthily as she could, Clara set out into the city once more.

* * *

As was always the problem, she was out of food.

Once more she was back in Two-Face's territory. But since the last time she had been there the security had been noticeably tightened. The gang's strength within the city had grown and there were more people than Clara could remember from the last time. They were better armed, their clothing was less tatty - some even had bullet proof vests on- and they spoke less amongst themselves when they were on patrol. It was really rather dangerous to be risk being anywhere near to Two-face's turf now, more so than the last time, but Clara had managed to steal from them once before and it was this thought that kept her going.

But things weren't working out as planned. This time she had gotten as far as the bay beside the storeroom she had stolen from previously, but it was there she had to stop. She had had to hide to avoid being seen, and had been stuck hiding for nearly an hour now. There were patrols everywhere, and they seemed to appear at random.

She was getting increasingly frustrated, her judgement beginning to lapse. She just needed to slip past...

'Hey! Who's that hiding there?!'

She had been spotted. Clara's eyes darted around the room, searching quickly for an escape route, then she picked one without much further thought and bolted, choosing to get out of the building as quickly as she could.

The cold night air hit her face as she burst through one of the back doors out of the building, it clanged loudly as it bounched back off its frame after she had passed through it.

She hit a railing outside, her shoulder taking the brunt of her weight. She reeled for a moment on her feet, then crouched and slid under the obstacle and dropped down into the street below. As she skidded and ran in the muddy streets, yells rang out behind her as the alarm went up. Her primary objective failed, Clara hoped that her newest one, staying alive for at least the next 5 minutes, would be more succesful.

As she ran she tried to think up an escape plan, but it was hard to keep her thoughts straight, she knew she was being chased and as a result she was panicking, the only thing that seemed important to her right at that moment was getting out of there.

She ran and then, looking back over her shoulder for just a second, she _ran_ into someone. Instinctively she leapt back, only to promptly crash into another person standing behind her.

'What the-?!' the one she had crashed seemed just as startled as she had. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

Clara noticed there were actually several different people hiding in the shadows nearby, including the two she had just run into. But they were not dressed in warped plastic and grey but black and white. And she realised she had accidentally ran straight into an ambush party, into a trap, but it quickly became apparent that she wasn't the intended quarry.

'It ain't one of Two-Face's, it's a freaking street-rat!' shouted one, storming out from where he was hidden.

'Shut it, Frankie! They're going to hear us!' the men began to argue amongst themselves.

One of the group darted forward to look up the street beyond her. Frozen upon the spot, Clara's gaze darted for an escape route - danger both in front of her and behind her. There was still shouting from the direction she had came from and it was getting louder. The man she had crashed into swore.

'They know we're here! Freaking hell!'

The men surged out of hiding to face the advancing gang head on, Clara was pushed and shoved aside as they ran past, ignoring her. They simply had no interest in her at this time, the bigger threat was their priority. One of Two-face's gang had a gun, she heard a shot rang out, then three of the Penguin's men were upon him, trying to wrestle the weapon off him.

Clara remained frozen in place for a few moments, watching as the two gangs launched into full on battle of lead pipes, knifes and fists. They were completely focused on their current fight. She turned and saw that she could see no one blocking her path beyond any more, only a straight empty street and all she had to do was run, it was all too easy. Once again her luck had paid out and she still had her own life.

Seeing the time as a good opportunity as ever to escape, she began to run again. All she needed to do now was-

A series of gun shots rang through the air behind her, and then abruptly she felt herself thrown, swerving with the motion of a stray bullet that had clipped her just beneath her arm.

For a moment she stumbled. Then, terrified of any further shots, Clara threw herself behind beside the scrappy remains of an old car without tires and hid behind it. There she immediately curled into a ball, for the moment she felt nothing but she knew she had been hit.

She didn't know the extent of the damage, she couldn't check. The scrap raged on, there were several further cracks of gunfire but this ceased quite abruptly when the Penguin's guys finally managed to overcome the man holding the weapon. But Clara knew it was only a matter of time before the fight would be over - it was impossible that the rest of Two-Face's gang wouldn't come to investigate what all the noise was, and when they did they would vastly outnumber the small ambush party.

When the fight finished their priorities would shift, and if they found her they would kill her.

She had to move.

For a moment she giggled at the irony that she had only just been escaping a mental hell to enter a physical one. Several weeks before, the staff at Mercy had said back that she was only weeks away from release, but no one had taken that into consideration when they moved her; the funding was suddenly gone and they had been told move her, but that had been more than month ago now and she was no closer to being released. By law everyone within the psychiatric facilities and prisons in Gotham were to be transferred to the new Arkham city - there had even been talk of this law eventually extending out to other cities. So many newcomers died less than a few days after their arrival, and the TYGER guards patrolling the streets then clearing them away like trash, only for the dead to be replaced the next day by a new batch. Somehow though, by pure luck, she was still alive.

There was no control here, no moderation or any safety. The guards were there to keep them in and nothing more. Some inmates who had tried to get out had been shot down, she had seen this with her own eyes. There was no order, only chaos. There were so many dead in the city, those that staggered off to die in alley ways, in drains and in old buildings were left lying where they fell, "ill" as when they had arrived and irrevocably dead. She hadn't seen any doctor here, nor any psychiatrists. It had to be the world's biggest joke, to call this superprison a mental health facility.

The place was more like a giant gladitorial pit, where only the strongest and wiliest would survive; Clara had known ever since she had arrived that she would not be one of the last ones standing, it was why she had fought so hard to escape.

The fight had reached a crescendo, she could tell by the sounds that backup had arrived. The Penguin's guys had broken off from the fight now and were running, right back down the street in which she was hiding.

Clara pulled down upon the edges of her beanie. Her mind began to mist over in terror, knowing that she needed to act now. She planned to run ahead of the retreating gang coming her way, so as to effectively use them as a shield from any further shots fired by Two-Face's gang.

Her pulse thudded warningly in her ears as she began to slide out from behind the car. She shifted to bolt out from her hiding space, whether to run for her life or to her death she wasn't sure, only to see that the Penguin's gang were already tearing past. She would have to run behind them.

One of them stumbled though, catching sight of her as she moved out onto the open street, and to her horror began to run back towards her.

'Tony! Tony, what are you doing?!' he shouted at her.

Clara, spooked, decided that she did indeed love life, turned to bolt in the other direction despite the obvious danger. But by then the strange man had reached her and had grabbed her by one arm, only then to her surprise he was pulling her along after the others.

'Tony, we need to fall back!' the stranger shouted, spittle flying from between missing teeth. Clara was too scared to object, and ran as she was pulled along. She glanced at the confused man that was convinced she was called Tony and knew that she didn't know him. He was balding with streaks of grey in what was left of his hair, one side of his face was heavily scarred but most disturbingly of all was that he was also completely missing an eye on one side, and when the light caught upon his remaining eye Clara saw that it was clouded.

'You need to keep close to the ground, Tony, and return to the museum!' he told her firmly, his grip unrelinquishing as they ran.

'Okay.' she replied weakly in a deep as voice as she could muster, deciding to play along for the moment as they ran. But still the stranger didn't release her, and Clara found herself wondering how well the man could hear, so she added more loudly. 'We'll meet up back at base.'

'Thats my boy!' the man grinned, tobacco stained teeth bared in a grin. They were now safely beyond any of Two-Face's gang's immediate sight of view. He quickly patted her upon the back and released his grip, moving to run alongside her and the others.

Only, of course, as soon as she was released, Clara changed directions and ran away.

* * *

Seeking safety as soon as possible, Clara didn't head directly back to her usual haunt_. _ Clara knew that she was still disorientated from fear, and it wasn't safe for her to stumble around on the surface any longer, it was simply too hard for her to focus in her current state of mind.

Miraculously she found a place where the ground had collapsed and crumbled to reveal the partially filled tunnel of a subway, much like the way down she had taken before - and that led on to remembering what exactly had happened last time. For a moment she hesitated. But it was then that she also remembered the relative warmth and isolation; relatively the place was safe given that she didn't run into anyone down there. It Killer Croc didn't exist or had never been placed in Arkham city, then she knew it would have been a perfect safe haven. But he couldn't be everywhere at once.

She decided to take the risk, and clambered down.

Immediately she was surrounded by the relative warmth of the subway, and she felt a little better. But nothing actually changed, she was still exhausted, upset and possibly bleeding to death. As soon as she had checked that no one was around, or at least in sight, she collapsed in a hissing heap against the rubble, surrounded on either side by broken pipes and crumbling bricks.

She forced herself to sit upright, taking off her jacket and gently easing up her shirt to check the extent of the damage. There was quite a bit of blood, but thankfully the bleeding seemed to be slowing now, thankfully though it wasn't as nearly as bad as she had first thought.

It was then that Dereck decided to make another appearance.

'Ouch, that looks painful.' he commented, sitting down next to her. 'Do you have any strips of clean cloth with you? I doubt you have any bandages.'

'I don't suppose you could get me some antiseptic solution?' she grumbled at him, unsure whether or not to be unhappy that she was imagining that her brother was actually there to help her.

'You know, if you boil some water, then that should do so as an alright cleaning solution.' Dereck suggested, but she couldn't see him any more..

'Does it look like I have any way to boil water!?' Clara snarled, wincing as she adjusted how she was sitting. Nor did she have any cloth with her, let alone clean cloth, she would have to improvise. She pulled off the ragged scarf she currently wore, being careful not to twist her torso, and she used it to dab gingerly at the wound. Then summoning her courage she pressed down over the area.

Pain flared but Clara felt no buckling nor anything hard move beneath her skin. While she was by no means certain, she believed that she had at least been lucky enough to avoid any broken bones or have any poisonous metal lodged under her skin. In fact the bullet seemed to have merely clipped her side, taking a chunk of flesh with it but not mortally wounding her. This by no means though ruled out the possibility of fractures or of later infection.

'Don't look.' she told Dereck, but he had already vanished.

She shook her head once, clearing her mind, then she raised her shirt, gripping the end of it between her teeth to stop it unravelling, and wrapped the scarf tightly around and over her chest as a makeshift bandage, so that she could apply pressure to the injury without having to hold the material down herself. She tied the ends of the scarf together, and pulled her shirt back down over it. Gingerly, she put back on her jacket and zipped it up, careful not to knock the makeshift bandage, and lay back against the uneven stone floor.

_'Just think about something nice.'_ she told herself, trying to calm her breathing, the last thing she wanted to do was to go into shock. _'Roast chicken, a warm bed, family.'_ But her thoughts were scattered and couldn't focus on one item for more than a few seconds as her side would twinge and she would be dragged back to reality. She decided to rest a little while, just a little until she had her breath back.

Only she ended up falling asleep.

* * *

Clara awoke drowsily, unconcerned and uncertain where she was at first. For a moment she couldn't understand why her mattress was so lumpy and uncomfortable, and in a daze she wondered if she had somehow rolled out of bed sometime during the night. But when she opened her eyes she didn't see the usual blue wallpaper nor posters upon the walls, instead she saw crumbling concrete and brick. And in the distance she could see the end of a train, its wheels broken and splayed out on either of it. Even then though, it still took her a further few moments to remember that she was not in her student bedroom at Gotham University, but lying underground in the ruins of an old abandoned subway. The gritty ground pressing up into the back of her hand.

It was then the reason why she had awoken in the first place became apparent.

Frozen, she listened. The footsteps were heavy, loud, echoed and applified by the tunnels. She could hear them coming closer and closer, louder and louder. She couldn't see anything from where she lay, but she didn't dare move either for fear of bringing attention to herself. The tunnel floor beneath her seemed to shake.

She could only hope that whoever it was wouldn't notice her and pass by and be gone. But Clara knew she hadn't exactly hidden herself; sure she wasn't lying in the centre of the tunnel, but anyone with half a brain that might look her way would be very unlikely to miss noticing her lying there against the rubble.

So she remained still, breathing as quietly as she could and listening intently.

To her great surprise, in their rush, they did appear to pass right by her. Clara breathed a sigh of relief, her body going slack for a moment. Whoever they were, they sounded like they were in a hurry, she concluded by the rapid rate of the paces.

She remained where she was though, waiting until she was sure she was alone again.

Clara wondered if perhaps it had been another like the unfortunate she had met before. Someone sneaking goods away to bargain with or win favour, the underground network was so extensive under Arkham city that she couldn't see why the big three wouldn't all use it to their own advantages when it came to smuggling.

But then, abruptly, the footsteps stopped.

Clara immediately froze again, there was nothing more that she wanted than to move just enough to see what the intruder was doing, but she didn't dare.

There was a sharp hissing sound like the ripping of paper, and Clara wondered if perhaps if they were tearing up documents or the like. But some part of her already knew that this wasn't the source of the sound, because part of her recognised the sound and it filled her with terror.

The footsteps were returning, and now she was certain that the ground was indeed shaking in rhythm with the being's approach.

Her eyes darted for an escape route, but she could hear the predator was already much closer than was comfortable and she wondered frantically if she would actually even be able outrun him with such a small headstart. She remembered all too vividly what had happened last time she had had a run in like this, and though it hadn't been her whom had been shredded to pieces, she had still seen the results.

Her thoughts stopped when silence fell and she knew Killer Croc was looming right over her. And there was no question as to whether she had gone unnoticed. _Why had she thought it was a good idea to come down here again?!_

She didn't dare breath. Too scared to move, Clara played dead.

Part of her illogical mind had brought up the fact that in the wild most predators would not touch carrion, which was where the term 'playing possum' had originally came from, but she had also forgotten that beggars can't be choosers and in Arkham city pretty much everyone was essentially a beggar.

Behind her ribs, her heart was beating frantically, and it was becoming increasingly harder for her to keep up the act. But somehow she managed to remain as limp as a ragdoll, even when a clawed hand hooked around her middle and she felt herself being raised up off the ground.

Fractions of a second seemed to drag on for hours as she fought to stay calm, but not even able to see her foe quite suddenly a series of images, such as Croc simply ripping her in half, popped into her mind. She remembered again quite distinctly then what had happened to the poor hapless stranger she had been tailing the week before. Perhaps it was time to incorporate senseless plan 'scream, thrash and try to escape'.

Claws prodded her jacket then, right over where the bullet had clipped her. Already on edge, she yelped and curled up at the sharp jolt of pain. Her eyes opened and with terror she saw Croc's maw only a few feet above her.

'You're not dead.' he stated, confirming the notion more to himself than her, one of his hands abruptly locking around one of her legs to hold her still. 'Let me fix that.'

'This isn't fair! Stop!' she cried out. 'You're not supposed to be interested in carrion!'

'I could smell the blood.' Croc growled down at her, she could feel his claws tightening through the thick material of her jacket. 'I know you're injured. I see you breathing, and that means, you're not dead.'

'I won't make good eating, I swear! I'm all bone and sinew, you try to eat me and you'll just end up with a cut up mouth!' she grit out, terrified and kicking out with her one free leg, ignoring the sting of her wound. 'So just let go of me and forget you saw me!'

'You're not my first choice.' he replied with a crackling chuckle. 'The funny thing is, I can't afford to be picky, so you'll have to do, no matter how bony.'

Realising that he was about to either break her neck or pull her into pieces, Clara tried to bargain.

'What about a deal?!' she proposed quickly, hands flying out in front of her in a vain attempt to protect herself. 'You don't have to eat me, I can get you something better!'

'And what could you possibly offer me?' Killer Croc almost sounded annoyed, but she was surprised he responded at all having expected him to ignore her completely and kill her on the spot.

'I err...' Clara thought desperately to come up with a response. 'I could bring you half of my next loot! I'm good at being sneaky! I've stolen from Two-Face's gang before and I can do it again! I normally steal food but I could steal something valuable if that's what you'd prefer!'

Abruptly the hand around her middle squeezed down a little further, pushing the air from her lungs. She struggled violently again when she felt the edges of her wound being stretched under the compression. She pulled frantically on his fingers in the vain hope of relieving the pressure, but the skin upon his hand was hard and thick, and she doubted if he could even feel her struggling.

'I don't reckon you steal much, let alone enough to feed me. And what would valuables be worth here?' he hissed at her, his grip not relinquishing. 'There is no one to trade with, the only things of value here are food and weaponry, and I only need the first.'

Clara knew this was true, she could barely feed herself as it was, but she really had nothing else to offer. Then she remembered how she accidentally been lured down into the subway before, when she had been following that unfortunate stranger that had ended up being Killer Croc's lunch.

'What if I could lure others down here?' she replied quickly. 'No one likes me stealing from them, they all chase me if they see me!'

Croc froze, the hand around her middle loosened a little, but then just as abruptly the grip returned and he was glaring at her.

'And what would such a promise be worth once I release you?' he questioned warningly. 'Do you think you will be able to just scurry back to the surface and you'll never see me again?'

'I don't like competition anymore than anyone else. If you picked off those I lured down here, then that rids me having to waste time losing them above ground.' she said, grinning in terror. 'And if I went back on my promise, you'd just kill me next time and that would be that.'

Killer Croc still didn't release her, but at least his grip slackened somewhat.

He was regarding her suspiciously. Clara did her best not to show her fear - looking in Croc's direction but at the same time not looking directly at him.

'What were the words you used last time...' he rumbled, prodding at the dry blood upon her jacket. 'That if you died somewhere on the surface I wouldn't be able to get you?'

'I'm not dying! They only clipped me, I was just resting down here. It's freezing up top.' she excused, suddenly concerned that he didn't think she was up to the job. 'I can get people to come down here!'

Croc didn't respond, but Clara alarmingly could feel his grip beginning to tighten again.

'I practically already brought someone to you the last time we met! That guy was following me coz I stole from him!' she lied hurriedly. 'I can do it again. I've got nothing to lose but my life, and that's exactly what I'm bargaining with!'

Abruptly she found herself falling, the grip around her body having been relinquished, she hit the ground painfully.

Clara immediately rolled over and got to her feet, holding her now aching elbow to her chest, but even standing at her tallest her adversary loomed over her without even trying.

'One chance. Don't pay up and the deal is off.' he threatened her. 'Failure means I'll crush your bones and skin you.'

She nodded quickly, knowing the threat was completely literal, her feet itched to run.

He regarded her out of narrowed eyes for a moment, then abruptly crouched down and leaned towards her, still glaring at her as if searching for any sign of disceit. Even crouched though, his mere presence seemed to fill up the tunnel, and somehow made him appear as if he were about to pounce. Clara stumbled back a few steps, before she could convince her shaking legs to stay still again.

'It'll have to be at night, I can't risk daylight or I will end up-' she began to say.

But it was then that the distant sound of approaching laughter came echoing down the tunnel.

Croc lost interest in her for a moment, turning to look towards the source of the sound, and for a moment Clara risked looking too and saw moving shadows stretching upon on the walls. A group of people were coming, perhaps a scouting party for one of the big three, and by the amount of sound they were making, they were pretty confident in their ability to defend themselves.

Her eyes immediately darted back to the more immediate threat when she noticed him move out of the corner of her eye. Croc had tensed, his muscles bunching and his clawed fingers curling in upon themselves.

Now faced with two potential threats, Clara felt her mind was beginning to become overwhelmed with conflicting information. She wanted to turn and run back up the tunnel to get away from the approaching patrol before they saw her, but at the same time she was worried that such a sudden action might set off Croc into ripping her to shreds.

She tried to say something but no sound left her throat - she didn't even dare breath.

Her gaze flickering back and forth nervously. Slowly, Clara began to crouch closer to the ground, and readying herself to run, deciding to ignore the quite possible consequences. Fight or flight was what the situation screamed at her, but she already knew the first option was definite suicide.

Abruptly Killer Croc twisted his neck to look down at her with an intense inhuman stare. She said nothing, but she really didn't need to do so to convey her wish to flee. She began to fidget, chewing on her tongue, her gaze still flickering rapidly from one thing to the next.

Croc looked away from her again, back towards the direction of the intruding group. He seemed to come to a decision, and got to his feet.

Clara leapt back, putting more space between the two of them, but there was really no need. Croc had completely redirected his focus away from her.

He braced his feet firmly against the floor, and then propelled himself into charge, thundering down the tunnel towards the incoming patrol. Clara could literally feel the ground shaking beneath her feet.

Clara immediately took this chance to run in the opposite direction, back up the tunnel. And as she fled she heard the start of terror: the yells and shouts, then a bone chilling roar reverberated in the tunnel. She heard screams and the cracking of gunshots, and she wondered if she had just made a terrible choice.

She heard Croc roar again, far away but by then she had reached the cave-in and was scrambling back out onto the surface, the old crumbling bricks and concrete stinging her fingers as she frantically pulled herself up.

When she finally got back to her hideout the first rays of sun were just appearing over the horizon.

She quickly slid under the old house and lay still, worried that the injury on her side was bleeding again. Clara slowly curled herself up into a ball for warmth, and waited for sleep to come, hoping it would be a dreamless one for she was she was certain that she didn't want any new nightmares in addition to the very real one of surviving in Arkham city.

* * *

A/N: I can't help but feel something is missing in this story, originally I wanted just to stick to Clara's POV throughout the fic but since going over the drafts for the future chapters I can't but help think that maybe I should throw in some of Croc's POV too? In the first draft of this story, the first chapter began with an inner monologue of Killer Croc while he was still stuck in Arkham Asylum - but I ended up cutting this out in the end coz it seemed too out of place. So erm...any thoughts?

One of the main reasons I've chosen so far to not show Croc's POV is that I feel it would lessen the impact he gives - basically he seems more dangerous and unpredictable if his POV is not given, which is the impression I want to give at least for now but won't necessarily want to do later on.

**Quick summary of this chapter:**

Clara sets out to steal from Two-Face. Things don't go according to plan and she has to flee after being spotted, only to run straight into an ambush set up by the Penguin meant for Two-Face's gang. Two-Face's and Penguin's gangs fight, Clara tries to run away during the ensuing chaos but ends up getting clipped with a stray bullet. She hides behind a car, fearing the injury is worse than it looks. She gathers her courage and tries to flee again only this time it is someone from the Penguin's gang that stops her - a strange one-eyed man who seems to believe her name is Tony, and tells her to head back to base because of her injury. Clara plays along briefly, then gets out of there as quickly as she can._  
_

She goes below ground as she finds a hideaway down before she can get back to her usual hideout, there she tends to her wounds and rests for just a moment, but ends up falling asleep.

When she wakes up she is aware she is no longer alone. Croc in his endless patrols of the underground has tracked her down, Clara plays dead hoping that he'll go away. This fails though, and to save herself Clara is forced to make a deal, managing to convince Croc that by letting her go she'll be able to bring prey to him. However before they can come to any arrangement, it becomes apparent that one of Joker's patrols are walking around nearby. Croc breaks off to confront them, Clara takes the chance to flee.

_Next time (spoiler) = Clara __inadvertently __ends up joining gang._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

**Author's Note:** IMPORTANT to note that this story has nothing to do with my old story 'If You Were Normal', except that I kept the same name (Clara).

_Sunnycroc_: regarding Croc's POV, I agree with you, I'm going to go for it in the next chapter :)

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Double Blunder**

It was bitterly cold.

Clara rolled her shoulders, feeling the tug of her makeshift bandage over where the bullet had clipped her. She hadn't dared unwrap it since the incident, but it wasn't hurting any worse that it had been. Though sometimes, after she had been running, it hurt to breathe - but if there was something wrong she couldn't do anything about it anyway.

As she cautiously broke into another tin of food, listening all the while for anyone nearby, she tried to think of ways she could keep warmer. A fire would have been one solution, but she knew to light one would have been suicide; a beacon for every criminal and psychopath within the entire city. Putting on extra layers was also a possible solution, but it would also be cumbersome and noisy - making it impossible for her to sneak around.

For the past couple of days Clara had been shivering near constantly, and wondering whether or not there might be a point when she went to sleep where she might not wake up at all. It was time to take action, she needed to consider moving again.

Right now the subway was sounding her best option. Underground and isolated from the battering winter winds, warmer than the surface - she knew this because that was where she had rested after she had nearly been shot. But of course that solution was also possibly suicide, it was the domain of Killer Croc.

It had been two days now, and so far she hadn't done a thing to honour their agreement.

Her argument regarding the situation with the deal was that they simply had never come to any precise agreement details. She had said she would lure someone down, she hadn't said when. Though she doubted Croc would see things the same way when they crossed paths again.

'Freezing to death might be the least painful way to die.' Dereck said, buffing his fingernails with a file, his finest suit completely free of dirt. 'I mean, compared to what Croc might do to you if he decides you lied to him.'

'If I do see him again, I'll just finish off the conversation we were having last time.' she replied, though not aloud. 'Our paths are probably going to cross again whether or not I like it. There is no way I can survive much longer up here, it's getting too cold!'

Part of her hoped that it wouldn't come to that. She hoped that maybe there was a small chance that, for some reason, Croc might have spontaneously died or maybe had escaped and was terrorising others somewhere outside the compound. Rationally though, she knew this was very unlikely to have happened, and it was actually more dangerous for her to not run into him sooner so that he didn't think she had backed out on their deal, especially if she was to begin using the subway as her refuge for the winter.

'He must have to move around a lot to find any unfortunates stumbling around underground.' continued Dereck indifferently, his voice grating. 'Can't imagine many people are stupid enough to go down there once they realise who lives there.'

Clara focused her gaze on where Dereck's shadow should have been. Her brother immediately faded from view, leaving Clara to think on her own once more.

Gritting her teeth to stop them from chattering, Clara began to reconsider her options once more. And she continued to reason with herself that she was in danger of dying anyway if she stayed out in the cold - no sleep and freezing temperatures equalled incapacitating fatigue and therefore no food, let alone escape.

_'You're going to have to confront him if you go back down there. So the sooner the better!'_ she argued with herself as her stubborn feet refused to move. '_And if your agreement holds, then you can explore the subway further for a really good hideout! Very few people go down there so you'll be able to take all the time you want. There must be underground tunnel networks all over this city, what better way to navigate around without detection?'_

She had to think fast, dawn was just around the corner and she could not risk being trapped if she made the wrong decision - the streets too dangerous for her to wander in broad daylight. She was still fearful though, if Croc had since decided their deal wasn't worth it then he might well kill her if they met again. But her need to get out of the cold got the better of her though.

Clara headed out.

She headed for the 'sky-light' she had used to escape the subway previously, the only other way down she knew was dangerously close to the Penguin's territory and she didn't want to have to take such a risk when sunrise was just around the corner.

Clara slipped underground, dropping the last bit of the way when she lost her balance on the rubble, landing heavily upon her feet.

The sound echoed loudly in the tunnel, and she paused for a moment to listen - but heard nothing more. Finding herself comfortably alone, Clara made a quick estimation in her head, and turned on her heel and walked away from where she had had her last run in with Croc - fearful that she might stumble across the remains of any meal he might have had since then.

She sought out a refuge. A rockfall made a good a place as any, where yet another cave-in had occurred and the ancient wall had erroded way to the earth and rusted piping behind it. She climbed up upon the mountain of bricks and broken concrete, manouvering around the cave-in until she found a little hollow behind a particularly large piece of rubble.

It was as uncomfortable as anything, pointy rocks and gritty concrete everywhere, but at least it was warmer than she knew it was above ground. She listened again for any intruders, then began to do her best to blend into the background, digging her shoes into the loose earth and strewing some of the finner gravel over herself, her face and hands already grey with accumulated dirt.

Somewhere above her, she knew the sun was now rising over the city. And somewhere not very far away, the regular people of Gotham were going about their normal lives as if nothing was wrong, while she was stuck in here feeling as if she were a million miles away. Clara was too exhausted to feel any self-pity right at that moment though, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of the shifting of gravel and stone. With alarm she realised that the debris she was lying on was moving, avalanching down towards the ground.

Flinging her arms out, she scrambled upwards, against the movement of the rubble. There was a sharp hiss of breath below her, and Clara whipped around to look down.

In her mind she cursed. Of course her luck had run out, oh why hadn't she just stuck with the tried and trusted manner of living through the day?! It had worked so far!

Right below her was Killer Croc, he had been in the process of pushing rubble out of the way to get to her. He had paused at her sudden movement.

'Still not dead?' he asked, and Clara saw fresh wounds upon his being, several scales had been ripped right out above his brow – in their place was congealed dark blood. There were also gashes across his chest which could have only been inflicted by bullet wounds – though none of them appeared to be very deep.

Her eyes darted back up the opposite direction of the tunnel, seeking out an escape route if need be. She felt herself slipping again as the rubble moved.

'Thought you had gone and died on the surface.' he growled. 'Or thought you had backed out of our deal - I've got your scent, I can find you wherever you hide.'

'H-hey, it's not like that. I thought you had food when I last left you, it's only been a little over a day. We never completed the terms!' she hastily defended herself. 'It'll be dark in a few hours, I'll bring you something tonight!'

Croc snarled, burying his hands back into the rubble and hurling chunks of it away, and Clara felt herself moving again with the avalanching rubble. She fought, scrambling to stay out of reach, but she had been taken by surprise and was exhausted.

She involuntarily squeaked when he finally got a grasp on her, but stopped struggling, fearful of making him angrier.

'I swear, I'll bring you someone tonight.' she said quickly, holding her hands out in front of her in a vain attempt to keep him at bay. 'Just please don't eat me!'

'You're still breathing, which means you're capable, but as for the matter of keeping your promises...' Croc appeared to be waying up whether or not to kill her on the spot, she could feel the power of his grip and tried not to wince at the pressure over her injured side, she knew she needed to act fast.

'No, look, I have this plan! Just a bit further down the tunnel, near where we last met, there is a way out onto the surface. That's where I going to climb down tonight. I'm based not far from here at the moment, and Two-Face's territory is right on my doorstep, so there is always a lot of people around. All I need to do is be spotted, run down here, they'll inspect, and then you grab them instead of me.' she explained, smiling nervously. 'We have a deal, right?'

Croc didn't look convinced, though it was hard to tell - the scales upon his face obviously made more subtle human emotion harder to read. After a few moments though, she felt his grip loosen and she was able to slide free, falling several feet before landing awkwardly on one foot.

'Tonight, you bring me someone. To this place.' he told her. 'Otherwise the next time I catch you, and I will find you, I'll kill you.'

'Of course.' she nodded frantically. 'The first person I come across, I'll bring them down.'

'I'll be waiting.'

* * *

It was already dark outside again when she emerged.

Clara, feeling quite on edge after running into Killer Croc, did not act as she normally would have and instead of going back the way she had came had gone in the opposite direction, and now found herself emerging from the subway by a different exit - the more traditional way: up a series of steps and through an exit that had a placard overhead though the writing on it had long since rusted away.

As a result, she now had no idea where she was, and felt completely disoriented.

While searching for more familiar territory, she stumbled upon an old tire dump. And knowing she could never afford to miss an opportunity, Clara began to pick her way across it, searching for anything that might be useful - putting her dangerous mission on hold for a few minutes.

Clara reckoned she had a fairly good mind map of the part of the compound she frequented. She knew the routes the guards always took, she knew how far out Two-Face's patrols went when they weren't out on a mission and that their distribution was greatest on the side facing Penguin's territory. She didn't know much about the Penguin's gang's habits except that they rarely ventured far from their territory but when they did they normally moved en masse – Clara had seen a pack of around 30 of them once - the main benefactors of the food drops in the area after Two-Face.

Abruptly she lost her footing and struck her arm upon an outcrop of metal.

'Argh! Fff-!' she grit her teeth to prevent herself from making any more noise, besides the fresh pain in her arm she feared that her injury on her side had been knocked as well.

She could already tell there was going to be a bruise. And the pain seemed to be getting worse, even though it couldn't be._ 'It's all in your head!'_ she repeated to herself. _'Blue skies and a gentle summer breeze, warm sunlight and -argh!' _She shuffled backwards and braced against the tires, wishing she could bury herself under them, and tried to concentrate on her breathing.

But memories came to her nonetheless, and though they did not manifest in the real world they appeared before her mind's eye, and no manner of blinking would blur them away:

* * *

_Her hearing was the first thing to return, she could hear hushed voices and the gentle rhythmic tapping of footsteps, but she made nothing of them because she was not fully awake. She smelt the sharp scent of disinfectant. Something touched her arm, and immediately she remembered the fear._

_She sat up abruptly, eyes wide open to world that momentarily appeared as a blur of white and green but then resolved into a bright white hall, lined with beds. She didn't know where she was, she tried to stand but her arm was bound in some way, and it hurt to move._

_ 'Easy, calm down.' said someone above, gently pushing her back down again. 'You're safe now.'_

_ Clara's vision refocused and she saw her mother and father standing by her side._

_She blinked and stared, trying to figure out what was going on.__Her cheek stang, there was a large wedge of cotton wall plastered over it; the material tugging at her face whenever she moved her face. __She didn't recognise where she was though she knew at once that it was a medical ward._

_The mattress dipped as her mother sat down beside her, Clara saw her father moving to stand next to her now that she was awake._

_ 'What happened?' Clara asked, unable to understand why she was in a hospital. Had she been in a car accident? She had only got her licence the year before but she didn't reckon she was that bad of a driver. For a moment she lay in a daze, trying to remember.  
_

_'They said you fell down a staircase.' her mother replied quietly. 'You've broken your left arm and bruised yourself quite badly in the fall. You'll be bed bound for a while but you're alive, and that's all that matters.'_

_And then without warning she was being hugged fiercely, her mother crying freely by her ear._

_ 'It's good to see you alive, Clara.' her father said, obviously close to tears himself. 'We were so worried.'_

_ 'What happened?' she asked again, not recalling the stairs but now remembering Arkham Asylum. 'I was talking to Dereck...then one of the doctors said we were being gassed...'_

_ 'There was a major security breach at the asylum last night.' her father replied, then gestured at the wards. 'Most of the people in here are survivors from the same event. It was on the news and everything, but we weren't even aware of it until this morning when I turned the radio on at breakfast. We thought you were sleeping in, but then we saw the car was still missing and you were no where in sight. And we couldn't reach Dereck on the phone-'_

_'And even then we couldn't find you for hours, since you had already signed out at Arkham.' __her mother cried. '__It was only because they didn't recognise you on the registry that they called for us to identify you. They found Dereck first, we were so worried they would never find you...'_

_'Excuse me, miss Dawson?' a doctor with a clipboard interrupted, he stood smiling uncomfortable at them behind a pair of thick glasses. 'I am Dr. Bailey, I would like to run a quick psychological and health profile. I just need to make sure you are well enough to be checked out of the ward.'_

_ 'I can carry her to the car, if need be.' Clara's father said, stepping into the conversation. 'I would rather that she isn't stressed any more than need be, she has been through a lot.'_

_'I will skip straight to the point then.' Dr. Bailey nodded, and looked directly at Clara. 'Miss Dawson, you injuries are not dangerous, they will recover with time, you are one of the luckier ones. But I must ask you of the circumstances that you encountered before the incident, standard procedure for everyone we rescued off the island. Is this okay with you?'_

_Clara nodded slowly, trying to recall the nights' events a feeling of dread filled her but at that moment she couldn't remember why._

_ 'Good. Alright, so it says here that you were interning on the island as part of the Medical degree you were taking at Gotham University. Yes, yes, your parents and Arkham staff have already informed us. Could you tell me exactly what happened that night? What were you doing so late at night in the Medical Facility? I understand that the agreement with the university only covered daylit hours, you should have left hours before.'_

_'I was...I was waiting in the staff room.' she responded slowly, frowning as her mind fought to recall any further memory. 'My older brother works there as a forensic psychologist, you see, he assesses new arrivals in Intensive Treatment. But his car had broken down, and he knew I was there, so I was supposed to be giving him a lift home. I was waiting in the staff room, but then a doctor said we were being gassed. I th-think we tried to get out...nothing made any sense after that.'_

_ 'Could you elaborate? Anything at all would help us. I used to work in Arkham, there are several potential sources of noxious gas in its facilities.'_

_ Clara shuddered, wrapping her uninjured arm around her shoulders. 'One of the doctors, he said there were maggots in the airvent, he was scratching his arms trying to get rid of them.'_

_ 'And what happenend then?'_

_ '...I really don't know.' she replied uneasily. 'The office just suddenly gone, the roof was gone, and everyone was gone. But I wasn't alone, I started seeing these things, like monsters, all around me!'_

_ 'And then what happened?'_

_'My teeth fell out!' Clara cried remembering, immediately she raised her hand to her mouth, but to her relief and amazement she found this was not true. She still had teeth. And when she looked at her hands she still had nails, still had skin. Apart from the blood and grime beneath her nails, she looked no different tha normal - but that wasn't what she remembered from only hours before. 'I was rotting, falling apart, everything was rotting! All around me...'_

_ 'Please, can't you be a little more gentle with your words?' her father pleaded with the doctor, placing a hand upon Clara's shoulder._

_ 'I am merely trying to gather the facts, Mr Dawson.' Dr. Bailey replied. 'I am now nearly certain that the event experienced by Miss Dawson was down to one particular patient who has been known to use a potent substance which he simply calls 'fear gas'. Your daughter will probably need therapy, the effects of this drug have been known to wreck havoc on the psyche. Arkham has lost several doctors and patients to its effects, but the good news is that she has survived. Those that survive and then receive therapy have a good recovery record. Many end their own lives while under its influence, falling down those stairs and knocking herself out probably saved you life.'_

_Clara suddenly recalled an image, a memory of a sort, of Dereck swinging a fire axe at one of the windows in the office as he tried to get out, but he lost his grip and it fell to the ground. For some reason this memory disturbed her enough to physically hurt her. It was then that she became acutely aware of the absence of her brother by her parents' side._

_ 'Where is Dereck? Is he alright?!' she asked, straining her neck to see down the hall, perhaps Dereck was nearby and was just keeping his head down until he knew the doctor was done talking to her._

_ '…' Her mother inhaled deeply but said nothing. Her father frowned and looked to the ground._

_ 'Clara, working at a place like that is dangerous, there will always be hazards. You know as well as anyone that we didn't want you interning there to begin with. Last night was an example of what can happen sometimes does happen.' he said to her slowly. 'A lot of people were injured or seriously hurt last night.'_

_ 'Where is he? Is he here? Is it bad?!'_

_'Rescue operations weren't able to make it in there for hours, the asylum was overun for a long time, no one could get in or out. Communication was terrible at best...' he shook his head and clenched his fists, then raised his gaze to look sorrowfully at her. 'When they found him...well there was just nothing they could do. He...he didn't make it Clara.'_

_ She felt as if the blood in her veins had turned to ice, her heart plummeted in her chest._

_'H-how did he die?' she asked shakily, face blank._

_ 'Clara, sweety, please, we really don't need to talk about these things right now.' her mother pleaded._

_ 'How did he die?! He was right next to me!' she screamed._

_ 'The lunatics at the asylum beheaded him!' cried out her mother. 'Those animals beheaded my baby! Mine, my only son. My Dereck!'_

_ Clara didn't reply. The memories began to come pouring back, memories of a terrible truth that partially contradicted what she had just heard. Blankly she stared ahead, but she could hear her pulse ringing in her ears once more, slowly getting louder and louder._

* * *

Concious thought bubbled to the surface when she spotted something moving out of the corner of her eye. In her stupor she hadn't noticed the encroaching danger. She kicked out and scrambled to escape but they were already blocking her way, rough hands grabbed her arms and steel hard shoes kicked her legs out from under her. She would have fallen flat upon the ground if it were not for the man holding her arms behind her back. As she struggled, packing her legs beneath her in a futile attempt to launch herself free, a second man leaned in close to inspect her.

'Ah forget this, it's another freaking vagrant!' the man concluded after a few moments. 'This has to be like the third one already. You think Two-Face lets them wander around as a distraction or something? Or you reckon he's really that bad at pest control?'

'Who cares, an intruder is an intruder.' replied a third, surveying the street behind them. 'We get rid of him and return to patrol. Word is that Two-Face's guys have got their hands on a weapons crate, we need to be on alert.'

'I know that you-'

Clara struggled again, this time receiving a hard blow to the back of her head for her efforts. She saw stars and then she tasted the pavement, having been thrown forward.

'Let's get this over with.' one armed with a crow bar was bearing down on her.

'You reckon he's got any smokes on him? The boss is rationing them like crazy now.' said the one who had first grabbed her, inadvertedly getting in the way as he crouched at her side, hands reaching to search her pockets.

Clara cursed in her mind as her vision danced from the jarring blow but she could still make out the black and white symbols printed upon their clothing - the Penguin's gang - at least she now had some idea of where she was.

'Get out of the way!' commanded the crowbar wielder. 'I need to finish him off quickly before the sound draws any unwanted attention!'

Abruptly one of the other men who Clara hadn't been able to see clearly from where she was, leapt out and cracked the crowbar wielder across the forehead with a sharp upper cut. Her attacker stumbled from the blow, dropping his weapon and cradling his head, behind them the others seemed to be startled too at the unexpected attack. The man looking for cigarettes, fell away from her in surprise, scrambling to his feet.

'One-eye, what the hell?!'

Clara recognised her saviour as the strange near-blind man from before. Clara shook her head, and ignoring the dizziness that came with the motion of lurching to her feet, she spied out her environment and picked an escape route. No sooner had she tried too run though, than the one-eyed man was right behind her.

'Tony!' barked One-eye. 'Get back here!'

Abruptly his grip was around her arm, feeling near to being ripped from its socket; despite appearances the stranger was ridiculously strong. Still she fought to free herself, but One-eye just pulled her closer and locked a second hand around her shoulder, his rank breath practically in her hair.

'You're not running off again, Tony!' he yelled at her. 'Don't do it just to spite your old man again, I won't be tricked so easily everytime.'

Clara froze in place, terrified as she tried to discern the insanity around her. Tony? Was he mistaking her for someone else?

'Eh, what's this? One-eye...?' one of the men started as he approached to investigate, while the fuming injured man glared from a safe distance.

The others began making their way over as well, talking amongst themselves.

'One-eye, who is this?' asked one, but in such a manner that Clara could tell he already thought he knew the answer.

'Why it's my son, Tony, of course.' replied the one-eyed lunatic, turning to face them and slapping Clara proudly upon her shoulder but never letting go of her arm. 'You've met him before, haven't you? He helped us rob that store back in Bludhaven.'

'Yeah, I remember.' the man replied, but he didn't really sound like he did, and he was now looking at Clara suspiciously. 'Looks very young to be in here.' the man commented, leaning in closer to peer at her.

Clara immediately frowned and automatically tried to hide behind One-eye, she was now terrified of being identified as female, which would be a dead giveaway to the lie that One-eye currently believed. She lacked the facial hair or even the stubble that she had seen nearly all other prisoners here in the city had, she hoped it wasn't a dead give away...perhaps that was why they thought she looked so young. Clara immediately tried to think up an age that would explain her lack of facial hair, but One-eye beat her to it.

'He's 16, so yeah, on the young side. But mighty cunning and swift.' defended One-eye. 'He's in here for a reason, just like the rest of us, so don't understimate him. You know that.'

The man shrugged his shoulders and looked away, then whispered to another man next to him: 'Just play along, he's done this before.'

One-eye apparently didn't hear him, his one murky eye was now focused solely on Clara, and he was smiling. 'You don't need to worry, lad, the Penguin's got a good set up, everyone's fed and pretty soon we'll own this city, no more running. I can look after you now.' Then without warning, One-eye sharply cuffed her across the ear.

'Don't you ever hide behind me unless you're about to die, boy.' he whispered gruffly. 'It makes you look weak, and the Penguin don't like weak.'

Clara nodded mutely, not daring to move. Only one thought was going through her mind though: What the hell was going on?!

One-eye turned to others. 'Alright then, off we go, lads. We're done here, right?'

There was some angry muttering, the man with the crowbar looked as if he wanted to kill One-eye but apparently didn't dare in the presence of the rest of the patrol.

'It was an intelligence gathering mission.' replied the largest of the men, broad shouldered and with a black-and-white mask hiding much of his face, presumably in charge of the patrol. 'We're done here, but One-eye I won't have you stirring up any more shit like you just pulled on Avery! You understand?!' Clara didn't miss his doubtful gaze in her direction, but One-eye appeared completely oblivious and his strange attitude was becoming more and more unnerving by the minute - and he still hadn't let go of her arm, so she couldn't run.

'Of course, sir, as long as he don't go starting none.' One-eye's reply nearly set off the man with the crowbar completely, but he stopped dead in his tracks when the big leader intervened; wordlessly aiming a shotgun his way in warning.

For a moment the big leader then glared over his shoulder at One-eye, as if daring him to make a stupid move, but the latter seemed to know he had said enough and didn't say anything further.

'Alright, let's clear out.' stated the leader eventually. 'The next patrol will be here in a moment, and we don't need to leave this place warm for them. Our friend _Tony_ can come with us to the museum, but after that's it's the boss' decision.'

* * *

They made their way back towards the museum, Clara in unwilling tow.

She was considering trying to make a break for it again, but she wasn't sure if she had the strength though, the stress of the whole situation had exhausted her; her heart beating wildly in her chest.

As they travelled onwards, Clara noticed that the streets this side of town were not as dark as most were, some were actually illuminated with spotlights. It made it easier for her to spot Penguin's men wandering around nearby - and there were a lot of them.

By this point she knew that she couldn't back out, could no longer escape, the next few hours of her life would be her biggest gamble yet but one – she was now consciously realising – that could ultimately pay off; though the odds, of course, were not at all in her favour. If she was accepted in then the food problem would sort itself out, and then she might even be able to find out more about the walls and other escape routes through other people. At the same time though she couldn't help but wonder if they would simply kill her on the spot as soon as the strange one-eyed fellow had finished his game or realised that she wasn't who he thought she was.

The most likely conclusion of tonight, she knew, was death - but then when wasn't it now?

They then passed in through the rather grand entrance to a museum, all around hung raggedy banners displaying the white and black symbol of the Penguin. In fact the symbol was posted pretty much everywhere, stamped upon the walls, the men's clothes and some even had it tattooed onto their skin - Clara felt very much out of place.

They headed indoors, past several display cabinets and sets of stairs, here several of the patrol branched off and went their own way. Clara though, was dragged along after the few that didn't, continuing down a flight of stairs before veering off through one of the many halls which opened up into a hall.

The hall was immense, there was a high ceiling supported by stone pillars and arches, and dotted about the place were several stuffed polar bears. In the centre of the room was a long table, a throng of people gathered around towards one end of it.

The place was awash with sound, some sort of celebration Clara gathered, she could hear the raucous laughter of someone at the head of the table but could not see them from where she was due to the gathering. There were other people than those at the table, scattered about the room carrying crates. Nearest to the door was a red and white deckchair, leaning in which was a man that looked half asleep, an assault rifle at his feet.

'Hey One-eye, there you are, ya crazy old coot! What took you?' shouted the man, swaying a little as he sat up abruptly, he gave a mock bow to the rest of their party and nearly fell out of his chair: 'And I missed you lousy slugs too, of course.'

'What the big racket about, Jim?' asked the leader. 'You been drinking?'

'It's that's funny Dr. Strange guy, he's just given the boss a big shipment of ammunitions. Can you believe it?' Jim reeled a little, gave up on sitting straight and flopped back into the tatty deckchair, and slurred: 'You slugs all missed it, while you were out on patrol, flippers has been throwing a party. Drinks for everyone!'

'Ah, get back to your job, Jimmy.' replied the leader, losing interest and moving off towards the head of the table, leaving the rest of the group to stay where they were.

Jim apparently didn't hear him, and was currently fumbling with a packet of cigarettes. After a moment he turned to a man sitting beside him on pile of crates. 'You got a light? I'm all out of matches.' But his friend, a man with a shock of black hair and a hooked nose was looking intently at Clara.

'Is this one going to fight in the pits? You gotta be kidding me.' the man cackled. 'Way too scrawny, what were you thinking?'

Clara forced herself to hold her head high this time, but she could not bring herself to look the stranger in the eye, with every second that passed she was becoming more and more convinced that she was going to die, that they would see through her act.

'You watch your mouth, Frankie, this is my boy Tony. He's still got growing to do, and hasn't been eating too well recently, he fill out soon enough.' One-eye defended.

'Your boy, I thought he died ages a-' Frankie stopped midsentence as Jim - apparently experiencing a moment of lucidity - whacked him sharply on the elbow, shaking his head. Jim, the guard in the deckchair, then turned to face One-eye himself.

'You do remember the pit fights, right?' he asked a little groggily. 'The Penguin isn't just taking in anyone anymore, not since that Lester Kurtz bailed on us. You realise that they will make "Tony" fight to the death? Maybe take him back where you found him.' he suggested, almost gently, but Clara could tell by the many suspicious eyes of the others that were now upon her that any kindness present in the suggestion was not meant for her.

'Tony isn't going anywhere, I only just found him again.' One-eye replied curtly, then said to her: 'You'll fight in the pits, won't you my boy?'

'I-I'm half starved, how can I be expected to compete.' she weakly tried to excuse herself, keeping her voice as deep as she could - it was the first time she had spoken in their presence and she could only hope that it wasn't a dead give away.

'And so will be most of those trying out for a place.' replied Frankie, his sunken sallow face splitting into an eerie grin. 'Fair is fair.'

'Yeah, even if you're a bit short.' added Jimmy laughing, apparently comparing Clara's height to Frankie's who stood at least a head taller than everyone else present, then stopped abruptly with a yell when something loudly cracked across the back of his head.

'A little short, 'ey? And who would ya happen to be talking about, Jimmy old boy?' asked a snarling heavily accented voice.

Everyone behind Clara abruptly stood to attention, she quickly copied them before she even understood what was going on.

In front of them stood a short, balding man with his hands resting upon the end of an umbrella. Clara did a double take when she noticed what was first appeared to be a monocle was actually the end of a glass bottle portruding out of the man's left eye-socket. She immediate realised that the person standing before her had to be none other than the Penguin himself, crime-lord and one of the most dangerous people in the whole of Arkham City. Somehow, Clara felt herself growing even more terrified.

'Nobody sir, I was just saying I don't think this newcomer is going to make it.' squeaked Jim, hands raised above his head defensively, eyeing the end of the umbrella his boss had just struck him with wearily.

The Penguin sneered and looked over at them. Behind him stood two bodyguards, and the leader of the patrol she had just been caught by. To her surprise there was also a woman, wearing a pinstripe suit, a secretary of some sort she assumed.

'Oh, you're still alive.' the Penguin drawled upon catching sight One-eye while Clara warily eyed the nearest bodyguard, in his hands was a shotgun. 'There was rumours you had croaked.'

'I'm still here sir, and I bring with me a volunteer.' One-eye replied, smiling uneasily, slapping one hand down upon Clara's shoulder.

'I already wrote you off.' Penguin muttered rather loudly, ignoring him, and then he gestured for the secretary to write something down. He then turned to Clara who was struggling not to shake, she wasn't sure that she wasn't though. 'And who the bloody hell are you then?'

'Tony, they call me Tony.' she managed to grit out. 'I transferred from Mercy's Psychiatric Ward.'

Several people chuckled around her, and Clara wondered what she had said wrong.

'Ya know, most newcomers normally say they are from Blackgate or Arkham Penitentary, whether they actually are or not.' said Penguin, grinning nastily behind his cigar. 'But I have to admit I like your honesty, even if in doing so you revealed ya might be a liability. So what did they have you in for? You a nasty or a nutcase?'

'I knocked the teeth out of some guy's head, they said I didn't know what I was doing, but I did. So I got put in the madhouse.' Clara made up on the spot, she was surprised by the calmness in her voice for her heart felt like it wanted to leap out of her chest.

'Anger issues, eh? Well rest assured if you act like that around here, the disciplining with be a lot harsher that what you've experienced and-hang on.' The Penguin paused to look between Clara and One-eye. 'Did ya says you name was Tony? Aw shite, not another one.'

Clara looked uneasily up at One-eye and then looked to the others, trying to make out what was going on.

'You know, One-eye, you always gets yourself in a right proper mess.' The Penguin said, almost disbelievingly. 'It's going to be the end of ya one day, and I can't say that I'm not looking forward to it. Now get out of here, I want to have a word here with 'Tony'.'

'But-' One-eye began, but when one of Penguin's bodyguard stepped out and fixed him with a glare he quickly backed down. 'Alright, I'll be in the mess hall, see you later Tony.'

The Penguin turned back to her immediately. 'Alright then, spit it out. What are you doing here?' he barked.

'I just wanted to join, my father said-'

'He's not your father, you and I both know that.' The Penguin concluded, shoving her with the end of his umbrella roughly, his bodyguards loomed over her. 'You're not the first 'Tony' he has brought back with him from the streets, though the first in Arkham city so far. The real Tony got run over many years ago during a heist. Old One-eye's not right in the head, he didn't start out as one but he is crazy now and is beginning to become a right pain in the arse.'

'My name is Tony.' Clara replied boldly. 'And I am from Mercy's psychiatric ward, perhaps I am not related to One-eye, but I'm hard working and would make a good employee. Turning me away would be turning down a great opportunity.'

The others laughed, but Clara kept her head held high - as she knew her life depended on the next few moments going smoothly.

'Very brazen, ain't cha?' the Penguin stated, then chuckled and struck her in the stomach with the end of his umbrella strong enough to knock the breath from her body, but she managed to stay standing tall. 'I admire that, but I don't think it's a desired quality in this trade. I can tell just by looking at you that you'd come off worse in a fight against any of my boys. I need strong men, one's I can rely on. So tell me, if not muscle, what can you offer? I need smart and strong, but not too smart, heheheh!'

'I'm quiet and quick, I can scout out ahead of patrols and report back without being seen.' she said and then added, bluffing quickly. 'I know my way around Two-Face's territory like the back of my hand.'

'What about the Joker's?'

'I learn fast. And best of all.' she added, realising in that moment that she was sealing her fate whether for good or for worse. 'I'm disposable. If I die then you don't lose a thing.'

'Hah, I like your way of thinking, _Tony_. You're in. So what do you say? You say yes, of course!.' he told her and then turned away.

'Okay boys, we will humour our old pal One-eye one last time.'

* * *

A/N: Personally I'm not 100% happy with this chapter at the moment, but since I've already written up to the 11th chapter (draft only, not spell checked or anything) in this direction it's the way it's going to stay. Originally Clara joined the Penguin's gang as soon as the 2nd chapter but I decided I had to expand upon the time before this so that when she met Killer Croc later on she wouldn't be instantly killed.

**Quick summary of this chapter:**

Clara slips below ground seeking shelter as above ground its beginning to get too cold as winter moves closer. She sleeps for a mere few hours before Killer Croc finds her again. He is a little angry as he is suspicious that she deliberately lied that last time they met to escape, but she manages to convince him that she'll fulfill her end of the deal that night. Croc lets her go for now.

Having become disorientated while underground, Clara emerges to find that she isn't certain where she actually is. While trying to figure out where she is, Clara slips and hits her arm. The pain is familiar to when she broke her arm the year before and she experiences a flashback to when she was in hospital immediately following the Arkham Asylum breakout. It is revealed that she was an intern at at the Medical Facility on the island as a result of summer placement - as part of the Gotham University's Medical degree program - and that on the night of the break out she was exposed to fear toxin. While under its influence she fell down a staircase, broke her arm and knocked herself out, but in the meantime her brother was killed.

Back in the present, Clara realises that she has run straight into one of Penguin's patrols. Initially they are going to kill her but then the strange one-eyed man from before defends her, convinced she is someone called Tony - it soon becomes apparent that Tony is the name of the man's son who was killed in a vehicle related incident several years before, and he appears to be quite delusional. To save herself, Clara decides to play along.

She is more or less forced to return to the Penguin's headquarters by One-eye. There fortunately enough, the Penguin seems to be in a good mood and is on good terms with One-eye, he decides to humour his old collegue and allows Clara to stay on as Tony - but hints that she is not the first 'Tony', and that none of them have ever lasted very long.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Stumbling**

He was starving, always starving, ever since he had found himself in this walled off portion of the city; like a trap he had gone in and now found he couldn't get out. A hunger which he found barely sustainable in this prison. But just as sure as he would never escape his condition nor could he escape Arkham City

In the gloom of the abandoned tunnel, Killer Croc sat hunched against the wall, glaring through the shadows. The fresh wounds upon his forearms and shoulders stang - he had attempted to snatch someone off from the bridge, but he hadn't known about the snipers stationed above until they were taking potshots at him. Living in Arkham City was an endless cycle, but one he was not willing to quit, of hunting and killing - mindlessly like an animal - and then hiding. He would not roll over and die, like they wanted him to.

It had been over a _week_ now, and the ill chosen deal he had tried to strike had fallen through - he hadn't seen or smelt any trace of the little lying rat since. Everyone lied to get what they wanted, this fact was not new to him, but it made him no happier.

He really shouldn't have expected any better.

He had known at the time, and knew now, that he should have just snapped her neck and been done with it. But he was starving, desperate even, such an opportunity had never come along before - everyone he crossed with paths now either attacked him or ran away, no one tried talking. Very few came down here anymore, not since word had gotten out that he had moved in, and those that did were armed with guns. While his thick skin protected him adequately from most gun wounds, his enemies always seemed to aim for his face - he was not completely invulnerable and knew that one stray bullet might mean permanent blindness.

It was for the same reason that he usually didn't dare wander around on the surface, he presented too big of a target, and everyone was everywhere and they were all his enemies.

He looked up abruptly as he heard the distant thunder of feet. There was a scrap going on, he could hear the yells. Someone was below ground again, someone had dared trespass, and there sounded like there were several of them. Automatically he got to his feet and began to make his way over, there was no question in his mind, all he knew was that he was starving and some fools had decided to take the wrong path tonight.

They would regret it, and he would feast.

* * *

_Earlier that night..._

'What is Flippers thinking sending us out here? This is Joker's territory, if we get caught we're done for.' complained someone from the back of their group.

'Shut it.' hissed their big leader, Al, glaring back at the lot of them. 'And keep your eyes peeled. We're nearly there.'

The night before, three men has been sent to snoop around the outskirts of Joker's territory, to gather intelligence and information. One of them had reported back to the Penguin over radio, saying they had struck gold, but since then nothing more had been heard of them.

Everyone in their right mind suspected immediately that they were dead, but the Penguin, already in a foul mood, had decided to send a group of them out anyway to find out what had happened. It was practically a suicide mission, Clara thought, the idea of which should have terrified her, but she found herself strangely numb to the idea - there was no option of not going through with it, not if she didn't want to be shot on the spot for treason.

'-ony.' Clara jolted out of her daze, realising that someone was speaking to her; everyone else had stopped walking. 'Tony, it's your turn now.'

'My turn for what?' she asked dumbly, feeling the heat rise in her face, she honestly couldn't remember what they were talking about. Damn it, if they didn't all look terrifying to her, but after a week working alongside them now, she was beginning to get used to it.

'To go ahead, what else?' grouched Avery, he still blamed her for One-eye's attack on him previously. 'You see, the team don't think it's very clever for all of us to go off into uncharted territory so quickly. We might _all_ get shot. But you, all sneaky and fast, not so likely to die, see? So just scout out ahead, okay? Don't want Penguin to send us to the big man downstairs.'

Behind them the rest of the patrol was falling back into hiding in the shadows.

Clara nodded simply, knowing there was no point in arguing. She turned back to the face direction they had been heading, and quickly scuttled off ahead, a walkie-talkie secured in one pocket.

This was what always happened, and she felt kind of stupid having asked anything at all. Scout was her role, it was the role she had suggested and practically speaking it was probably the only one she would be any good at - but this didn't mean she liked it. She did realise that this was inevitable, and that if she did not pull her weight then those that knew she wasn't _the _Tony might decide that they did not want her around any longer.

Despite his apparent fatherly concern on her welfare regarding where she lived, One-eye had nothing against "Tony" risking her life on a daily basis, if anything he was proud.

Her 'father', as One-eye was still convinced he was unpredictable to say the least - more than once she had seen snap at others, often swinging abruptly between different moods without warning. He was apparently a paranoid schizophrenic, that is what one person had told her, apparently the only reason Penguin even kept One-eye around anymore was because of his long history with the gang.

Most of the time, the type of jobs Clara was sent on just involved running to drop off points for supplies. They sent her ahead as a scout often, while they waited back and listened. If she wasn't shot, which she hadn't been yet thankfully, then they would carry on with their mission.

One-eye was not sent on most of these missions, he tended to hang back at the museum and carry boxes around on account that he was nearly blind, all the while muttering to himself. He would greet her and talk to her when he was around, and stayed close to her on missions when they worked together, but he also had a nasty tendency to swat at her if he felt she wasn't behaving as she should. And he constantly talked about being watched, which was nerve wracking, but at least the others didn't dare bother her when he was around. She knew she still had to learn whom to trust and when to avoid others within the gang in the future.

She kept the name Tony, though no one really believed this was her name. Apparently there had already been a series of Tonys that One-eye had dragged in, they had all either run away or gotten themselves killed under his watch. Things didn't look particularly bright but what Clara really did appreciate though was the availability of food – though its quality and quantity left much to be desired.

And she no longer needed to stay out in the cold.

So she survived, but to do so she had to work, through which she could just as easily lose her life as retain it.

'Coast is clear.' she radioed back as soon as she had reached a deserted storeroom, and she quoted the name of the building back to her team leader.

'You see any sign of snipers, or possible lookouts?'

'It's all clear, but I-.' Clara decided not to voice her suspicions at the lack of activity, fearing rebuttal, perhaps being called a coward. 'No, I don't see no one.'

* * *

For a moment Clara stared with the others at the three men they had been sent to find, all three were not bound but they weren't move either - all of them were very much dead, writing carved into their bare chests.

_'The joke is on you!'_

'It's a trap! Get out!' yelled their leader.

No sooner had he said this before the door behind them began to slide shut, and green gas began to pour in from vents in the ceiling.

The group scrambled to get out, in their wild fear there was no cooperation, everyone barged to get out first. Clara honestly thought she was going to be crushed to death, but having naturally been cautious she had hung back and was closer to the door. But even then she barely made it out, leaping at the last second so that her momentum would carry her on once she hit the floor, only just managing to slide out. The last man behind her though wasn't so lucky, he copied her move but was just a few seconds too slow, his hand was crushed beneath the door and he was stuck.

'Leave him!' shouted their leader over their trapped comrade's pained yells. 'We can't do anything, and he'll draw off the enemy while we escape!'

And to Clara's horror, but not to her surprise, they all ran on without so much as a backward glance. Only Clara herself looked back and cringed inside as the doomed man shouted curse after curse at them. The only comfort she could give herself was if she had had any other option, then this would not be the lifestyle she would have chosen.

They ran back the way they had came, only to find the warehouse they had passed through before was no longer empty. There was no one immediately behind them though, so thankfully it seemed that they were not being pursued yet, though hiding seven people was no easy feat either.

All seven of them were crouched silently behind a pile of empty crates. Clara was worried, not only because of the Joker's men but of her own team - they glancing amongst themselves, then looking back to her, it was almost as if she could read their minds, she knew immediately that they were going to ask her to play bait and draw their enemies away. Terrified at this prospect, she adamantly refused to make eye contact with any of them before anyone could ask her anything, she edged silently away from the main huddle to hide behind a pile of old tires

It was just then when one of Joker's thugs were coincidentally passing by, when without warning, One-eye went berserk.

'Get out of there!' he yelled, lurching forward and out of his hiding spot. 'Get out of the way, Tony!' and caught her in a flying tackle, sending their cover of crates and tires toppling. And alerting everyone within a hundred meters or more of where exactly they were.

Momentarily dazed from the fall, Clara caught a brief sight of her team fleeing before she heard the crack of guns. She scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could and ran after them, skirting around the fresh corpse of one of her fallen team members as she fled.

* * *

When they finally got back to the subway, there was only six of them left, one of whom was bleeding from his shoulder. Clara stuck close to One-eye, but was torn at doing this because she could practically feel the fierce aggression already directed his way, some of which was also at her – and she still didn't quite understand what had happened.

They were taking the subway back as it was the only route that bypassed the bridge to the Joker's land, which was no doubt heavily guarded. It was the way they had traveled in, and it was the way they were traveling out.

Clara's thoughts had immediately drifted to Killer Croc when she had first heard that they would be using this route, and it had worried her. She knew very well that she had broken her promise, and it was pretty much safe to assume that she had a life long enemy now. So far though, he hadn't shown, despite the considerable amount of noise the patrol must have made in passing through, she could only hope that with the patrol's numbers the cannibal would be wary and stay well away until they were out again.

'Do you want to explain exactly what the hell happened back there?' shouted one of them at One-eye.

'The enemy spotted us.' One-eye replied blatantly, completely unconcerned. 'I don't understand what this has to do-'

'You leapt out into the open, screwing us, and our mission, over completely!' yelled Avery, spittle flying from his mouth in his rage. One-eye eyed him nonchalantly for a moment, then promptly knocked him to the ground with a crushing blow to the head. There were several yells of fury and suddenly a scrap was in full swing as two of the downed man's friends sprang to his defense. A blade quickly appeared in One-eye's hands.

'Stop this now!' roared Al, asserting his authority by drawing a handgun from inside his jacket. 'We are not some mindless rabble like Joker's rats! One-eye, you're going to have to explain personally to Penguin what exactly you did tonight! The rest of you, chill the hell out! We've got injured, and unless you want to join their ranks I would advise a_ little_ cooperation!'

The brawl split up and One-eye's blade disappeared back into his pockets. Clara eyed the lot warily, keeping a fair distance between herself and the nearest clenched fist. Other than a few bruises from being unexpectedly tackled by One-eye back in the warehouse, she was uninjured and would prefer it stayed that way.

Her face and fingertips prickled, terror doing funny things to her circulation, she was doing the best to keep a straight face though, even so she was near hyperventilating. She had seen death again tonight, she could have just as easily died herself - though it wasn't the first time - still it didn't help that she didn't trust any of her 'comrades' as far as she could throw them.

Something clattered loudly down one of the tunnels nearby, and hoots of laughter abruptly became audible behind them.

'They are still chasing us?' shouted the injured man in disbelieving despair.

Sure enough, seconds later, a large group of Joker's men came hurtling down the tunnels towards them. Though they came to a standstill for a moment, leering and jeering just a dozen meters away when Penguin's team brought out their own weapons - they had seen Al's gun. Clara wondered for a hideous moment if they would have to make a stand, it wasn't a fair fight and no doubt more enemies were already on their way to join the fight.

It was almost unnoticeable at first, but the ground was certainly shaking. There was a distant thundering that was slowly getting louder and louder.

Then the wall behind them collapsed in a great cloud of dust.

Clara raised her arms to shield her eyes, but not in time to miss seeing one of men standing only feet away from her being crushed beneath the falling rubble. A bestial roar filled the tunnel, primitive instinct gripping everyone so that they froze where they stood. Something huge and green barreled out from the rubble, crushing concrete and sending bricks flying.

For a moment Killer Croc stood in the middle of the tunnel, and Clara could have sworn their eyes met.

But perhaps because he didn't recognize her in that split second, or perhaps because he was presented with too many choices at once, Croc promptly grabbed the nearest person to the wall which just happened to be one of the Joker's men and ignored her.

What remained of Penguin's rescue party took advantage of the pandemonium to escape with their lives. Clara heard the cracking of shots being fired as she turned tail to flee with the others.

* * *

As they entered the museum, Avery broke off to help the injured man.

There was what appeared to have been a chaotic brawl in the arena area, and they had to wait a few minutes before the locked gates were opened again so that they could pass through. Clara saw more death, this time upon the floor and resisted the urge to be sick. She knew she would have to get used to it, as long as she was in the 'city' she would be encountering it on a daily basis.

The Penguin was congratulating the winner of the brawl when their group made it up the stairs to him. He immediately lost interest in the brawl champion and looked them over with narrowed eyes.

'Well? Did you find them?' he demanded, the question a threat in itself.

'They were already dead. It was a trap, the Joker had already set it up.' said Al, in a level voice. 'Someone ratted on us, sir. We were spotted, and they were ready. We lost three men, a further one was injured.'

'And what was the reason for this failure?' Cobblepot asked menacingly, leaning forward upon his cane. 'Tell me, I would really like to know.'

'One-eye blew our cover, he'll explain why now.' replied Al, gratefully retreating from his boss's fearsome gaze.

'I didn't do that, they had already seen us.' grumbled One-eye, his one clouded eye meeting that of Cobblepot evenly. 'They had the whole place guarded, they weren't taking any chances. What I don't understand is, where they got all those guns? That is what we should be focusing on.'

still didn't quite understand why One-eye had done what he did, she could only assume what she already knew – that he was completely crazy.

'Oh.' The Penguin paused to angrily puff a cloud of smoke, his sharp eyes then darted to Clara where she stood awkwardly a little way away from the others. 'Tell me, Tony, what was your account of things on this bloody awful night?'

'M-me? I-I.' Clara quickly cleared her throat, and looked all too briefly at her options and their implications in a desperation to answer. 'I think they might have seen us. That is, they were guarding the place, I don't know who they spotted first.'

'Avery, why don't you tell us what you saw?' he then asked the man who One-eye had thumped not ten minutes before.

'They hadn't seen us, then One-eye leaps out from his hiding spot, shouting and yelling before he tackled Tony half way across the room.' Avery didn't hesitate in answering, his face was devoid of any emotion but Clara could see the beginnings of the formation of a dark bruise upon his bald head and the clenching and unclenching of his fists indicated a more fearsome mood. 'The Joker's crew chased us into the underground, then Killer Croc popped up out of nowhere. While they were shooting at him, the rest of us got away.'

The Penguin's gaze now returned to her, and Clara could swear he was sneering at her from behind his cigar. If he thought she was lying, then it might be the end of her. Then a freakish smile broke his face, and he took the cigar from his mouth.

'I've just had a brilliant idea, I have.' he said, sarcastic joy dripping from each syllable. 'As you may, or may not already know, your little mission isn't the only one to get _**botched **_up tonight! So I'm not feeling particularly charitable right now. The thing you chums must understand, is that I am in charge, I get what I want, not the other way around! So tell me, what might a fellow like myself want after he's just lost a bunch of his lads?'

'Revenge?'

'Revenge? Pah! In this sort of situation, that is secondary, what I need is replacements!' he paused to puff at his cigar again. 'You mentioned that you spotted Killer Croc down in the underground, I was wondering where he had been hiding his ugly mug. He worked for Black Mask in the past didn't he? And as far as I know, he isn't now...'

Cobblepot let the last sentence hang in the air like bait, even though it was already clear he had made up his mind. Al spoke up, when none of the others dared.

'Sir, with all due respect, that was more than five years ago and things have changed.' he said.

'Hmm, and hows that?'

'Killer Croc, well, he was put in Arkham Asylum wasn't he? I saw him just a few months before it closed down and, well if he was considered a freak before I don't know what you would consider him now. If we send down any men to try to reason with him, we'll have even less that we do now. He won't talk to them, he'll just eat them. It's too risky.'

'Which is exactly why I was just about to make the suggestion that One-eye _junior_ acts as our ambassador.' The Penguin finished with a nasty smile, looking at Clara. 'You told us you were disposable, so prove your usefulness. After all you've already proved yourself a hazard tonight.'

Clara's mind did not immediately catch up with what she was expected to do, she was still busy trying to comprehend how it had been her fault that the earlier mission had gone so wrong. Apart from One-eye, they all glared fiercely at her now. What exactly had she done wrong; wasn't it One-eye' fault that they had been spotted? Or were angry with her simply because she didn't belong? Scrawny and ill looking by comparison, she imagined she must just look like a joke to most of them.

'What is it exactly you want me to do?' she managed to ask with calm face.

'Now that more like it, no more distractions.' The Penguin deliberately danced around the question, irritation still obvious in his voice. 'I want you to go back to where you saw Killer Croc. Find him and offer him a place amongst our ranks. If he agrees then I win, if he says no and eats you I still win coz I'll have one less problem to deal with.'

'Might you not just piss him off?' asked Al. 'If you really want him as muscle, he's only going to listen if his life is at stake.'

'Shut yer gob, Al! Are you suggesting I arm Tony? We already know what is going to happen tonight, all of us, I'm not going to lose anything further. Tony, any last requests?'

'Food!' she said without thinking, and then quickly added: 'So that he'll listen. If I'm to get a word in, he's going to need to be munching on something else first.'

'And you don't think that I reckon you might just scarper with whatever I give you?' the Penguin replied, but then he paused. After a few moments he turned to to look at his body guard. 'Actually on second thought. Tell them down in the kitchen to bring up some meat, they don't need to bother cooking it, tell them its for an animal.'

'I need a whole carcass up by the entrance to the arena, now.' barked the bodyguard into the radio-reciever hanging around his neck. 'No cooking, no skin and nothing special!'

'Please, sir, you will be sending my boy to his death.' One-eye finally spoke up. 'I admit that I screwed up in tonight's mission! Panic overcame me, see?'

'You know, I was actually toying with the idea of sending you in his place, One-eye.' The Penguin laughed. 'Get rid of your old crumbling carcass and be done with it. But no, my decision is final. Tony is obviously the cause of tonight's screw up, he will prove his worth or die trying, that is how things work here!'

* * *

Less than 10 minutes later she was descending back down into the subway, her heart in her mouth, her pulse pounding in her ears and a skinned defrosting carcass of a lamb wrapped loosely in cloth tied to her back. One-eye and Jim, the drunken guard she had seen sitting in the red and white deckchair when she had first arrived, were with her for the moment; the Penguin had already threatened One-eye though and made it explicitely clear that if he tried to accompany Clara into the tunnels then he would be used as target practice, no matter how '_old a fan of the club'_ he was. Jim was there just to make sure things went as they were supposed to.

'Here we are, good luck, son.' One-eye stated as they reached the point at which they could see the end of the old carriages. He patted her upon the shoulder and looked as if he wanted to say more.

'Callum, we need to go.' the other henchmen called, wise enough to not try physically forcing One-eye to follow after him. 'Get going, Tony!' he shouted at Clara when One-eye didn't move.

Clara nodded, and began to amble off on her own, refusing to look back. As she left though she could hear the two talking.

'He is not your son, you know?'

'You think I wouldn't recognise my own boy?' scoffed One-eye.

And then they were out of earshot and she was alone.

Clara tugged at the ropes around her shoulders and headed deeper into the underground.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter, Killer Croc becomes a much more permanent fixture in the story - sorry for him barely appearing in this chapter.

I know that this story has been mainly OC orientated up until now, but I plan to bring in - even if briefly - more of the 'Arkamites' from the game into the story, and of course include more of Croc.

**Quick summary of this chapter:**

Clara has been under the guise of Tony for around a week in the Penguin's gang. Her normal role in missions she is sent out on with the others is to act as a scout - checking out the area before the rest move in, e.g. if she gets shot then they know it's not safe. However, one night after one of the Penguin's men are suspected of being abducted by the Joker's gang, Clara finds herself as a part of a rescue mission to retrieve them.

The mission is a failure though, the men abducted have already been executed and One-eye exhibits strange unexplained behavior which alerts the gang to exactly where they are. They barely make it into the subway, however they are followed. Just when it looks like things are going to turn sour, Killer Croc shows up unexpectedly. In the ensuing chaos in which Croc attacks the nearest person - who just happens to be one of Joker's guys - Clara and the rest of the rescue party escape.  


The Penguin is furious at the bad news. When it becomes clear that One-eye's actions were the main reason for the further deaths - in his attempt to protect 'Tony' from some unseen danger - the Penguin decides to get rid of Clara, however he places a bet at the same time = he decides to send her to recruit Killer Croc (whom he is sure will kill 'Tony'), the wager being that if Clara dies then he is rid of a problem but if she succeeds then he gains a powerful ally.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Decisions  
**

So she had two options, Clara told herself.

Her first option...well she had the option to run now, with no one watching her they would never know what had happened to her. Sure, she would never be able to go back, and would be right back where she started, but hey, at least she wouldn't have to face Killer Croc – and thus stand a slightly more marginal chance of surviving the next 24 hours.

Her second option would be to actually do what she had been told – though she knew that it was very likely that Killer Croc would just kill her as soon as he saw her, as he would no doubt be furious for her lying to him. She hadn't meant to lie, but that was just the way things had turned out, it wasn't like she could just wander off on her own anymore, not without permission. If she had tried they might had labeled her a traitor, trying to sell information onto one of the other big three, and shot her before she had a chance to explain herself - none of them really wanted her around, they seemed to think it was a personal insult that she had been allowed in so easily when they had had to go through arduous trial._  
_

Professionalism in Penguin's gang meant not poking your nose into other people's business, unless it was that of an enemy, most notably Joker with whom Penguin had an ongoing feud that already spanned several years. All the same though, even if this hadn't been the case Clara doubted she would have been any more talkative with the others.

She didn't have a lot in common with them, and didn't really want to either, she didn't want to be here at all. Dereck had temporarily stopped showing up, he hadn't appeared to her since her unintentional initiation into the gang, but supposedly this was actually for the better. Dereck generally only appeared when she was completely alone, and it really wasn't healthy for her to talk to him when he did.

Pausing to adjust the heavy pack on her back as she got closer to her destination, Clara once more began to think about her options. Even if she were to do option 1, running away, she needed to exit on the Joker's side as she would be spotted too easily exiting the way by the museum, she had no idea how she was going to be able to get back over the guarded bridge though, the only way on and off of the Joker's part of the city, but she would have to try.

That was if she didn't run into Croc by accident anyway. She could quite clearly remember all her encounters with him, near misses on her life, his predatory and inhuman manner, and then there was the fresh paint of witnessing said cannibal bursting through the wall just mere hours before. Roaring like an beast, all claws and fangs, reaching to sink into the nearest warm body. Was there any way she might be able to avoid his wrath?

Clara considered lying again, and claiming that she had brought the Penguin's men past Croc earlier deliberately - but she didn't reckon it sounded very believable, and knew that even if Croc did believe it he still wouldn't be happy with the delivery being around a week late.

When she finally got back to the site where Croc had burst through the wall hours earlier, the place was deserted. There was no sign of the Joker's crew or Croc, not even the body of the man who had been crushed below the rubble – though as to which of the two formers had taken it was up to debate, she knew that Croc had not come out on top in the firefight following his appearance, the sound of gunfire had carried on too long for that.

She did not dare get any closer to the hole in the wall than need be, but she could large empty space behind it with water running adjacent to the tunnel, apparently the way he had come in and probably gone out. Now that she was here it seemed ridiculous that she would ever consider any option other than option 1. Running had worked so far, maybe it would work again._  
_

Her nervous mind began drawing her a fevered dream of what she would do next. Find an abandoned building, one that was near nothing useful so that it was less likely anyone might stumble across her. She had sneaked a peak at the Penguin's maps more than once, she knew that just to the north of Joker's territory there was a large patch of unclaimed land up for grabs - more or less, it was very unlikely that there wasn't anyone else there - surely to be more deserted than what she was used to, if she could get over the heavily guarded bridge between the two districts...

Then there was a splash as something moved in the water behind the broken wall.

Run or stay? Clara bit her lip and forced herself to stay where she was, it wouldn't help anyone, including herself, if she was caught running._  
_

* * *

Someone had come back, someone on their own. It was too good to be true, so he suspected a trap.

So he was cautious, quiet as he could be. He rose half out of the water, clutching the rubble to pull himself upwards. His arms and chest stang worse as soon as they were exposed to the air, his earlier attack had not been well thought out - now his hide was torn up, they had tried to shoot him down, a fresh new gash had missed his left eye by millimeters.

He wasn't sure who he was expecting it to be, perhaps someone from the Penguin's coming to collect the bodies - fat chance of that though, Joker's lot had taken everything, he knew this because he had tried to come back when everyone was gone. He was almost certain they had done it on purpose, they wanted him dead just as much as everyone else did.

But least of all people he expected to see was the wide eyed little rat that he had narrowly missed eating three times before.

He bunched up his arms and pulled himself out of the water, prepared to give chase as soon as she turned to run.

Only she didn't run, she waited.

Terrified as she had been been every time before that he had seen her, she stared up at him with wide eyes, knees knocking together and arms crossed defensively, but there was purpose to the way she remained. She wasn't petrified with fear, she was remaining there by choice, her chin raised in a poor attempt to mimic confidence.

She looked no better off than before though, ashen faced and underweight. The oversized puffer jacket she wore hid the worst of her malnourishment - but he knew from when he had last had her in his grasp that beneath the thick material there was little more than bone. He could also smell blood, but it didn't smell human, and it was then that he noticed she was carrying something on her back, something heavy that made her stand awkwardly as she waited.

As he stepped out from the wall into the tunnel, she stumbled back a few feet before managing to recompose herself.

'I brought you something.' she said hurriedly, swinging a heavy bag from over her shoulder, it that thudded heavily to the ground in front of her. On closer inpection it was something wrapped in a blanket, and it smelt very familiar, reminded him of being imprisoned alone in the disused sewer network of Arkham Asylum._  
_

When she pulled back the wrappings he was proved right, it was half the carcass of some sort of animal, like what they had used to feet him.

'It's got greater street value here than erm...regular meat...so erm, enjoy.' she said, stepping back._  
_

He expected her to run then, but still she stuck around. For now he ignored her in favour of the fresh meat, except it wasn't fresh it was nearly frozen solid. He really hadn't come across any meat like this since he before he had escaped Arkham Asylum, where had she stolen it from?

It didn't matter though, he wasn't happy. She had lied._  
_

Before she could remember why she shouldn't be there, he grabbed hold of her and held her so that her face was only inches from his. He would not be treated like an idiot!

'I-I got hold up, okay?' she bleated pathetically. 'The Penguin's gang, I ran into an ambush and-'

He growled and she fell silent. But then his eyes fell back on the food she had brought. She hadn't completely lied, most people wouldn't have come back at all, the whole situation seemed strange to him.

'I beginning to think you had gone and died.' he said, picking up the frozen carcass with his other hand. 'But you're here now...'

He really was surprised, after she hadn't turned up he had really not expected her to come back at all. He had no idea what to think and he really didn't like it when he didn't understand what was going on. Immediately he was suspicious, was this a trap? Was the meat poisoned? How was she trying to use him?_  
_

'I can get you more.' she whined, struggling feebly. 'If that's what you want, I can get you more.'

'Where did you get this?' he growled, he shook both the carcass and the girl in his hands at once._  
_

'The Penguin's kitchens.' she said quickly, the forced confidence was gone. He could see her searching for an escape route, little hands tense upon his arm as if readying to spring away. Or was she looking around for backup? An ambush he hadn't spotted?!

Croc quickly surveyed the area around them, raising his head to breath in deeply, taking in scents to reveal to him what his eyes wouldn't show him. He could still smell gunpowder from the Joker's gang's guns from earlier, he could smell the damp in where the concrete was erroding away in the tunnels, but most pungent of all was the fear of the struggling woman beside him. But they were alone, there was no one waiting nearby to spring a trap._  
_

'I did what you asked.' she begged.

And she had, more or less. He snarled and then abruptly dropped her, she had kept her word and he always kept his.

She landed on her feet, stumbling backwards, staring up at him with wide nervous eyes. He fixed her with a warning glare, then he sat down upon the ground with a heavy thump. He tore into the carcass she had brought without any further regard, starving, he ignored her; fully expecting to hear the sound of her running away.

But she didn't.

After several moments had passed though, he noticed she was still there. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes though, suspicious. He thought he would catch her staring, giving him an excuse to end their deal early, but she was facing completely the opposite direction, wringing her hands nervously and her gaze focused on the ground. She didn't want to be there, that much was obvious, but she still wasn't leaving._  
_

He was still suspicious, he didn't like it when he didn't know what was going on, it always meant something bad. She didn't say anything and he didn't ask, he wasn't obliged to and he didn't want her around anymore than she did him. So he carried on eating, but kept a close eye on her.

She was an odd little thing, he concluded after watching her for a few further minutes, if he hadn't been who he was he would not have been able to tell that she was woman, but nor did she look quite like a man or even a child, too thin and grubby to be much more than a breathing corpse. There was a large scar running down one side of her face. Yes, a living corpse, that was what she looked like._  
_

Then finally she moved, turning back around to face him.

'I need to ask you something.' she started, obviously waiting to gauge his reaction.

'What?' he growled, and was satisfied to see her jump back a step further.

'Areyoulookingforemployment?' she blurted.

He didn't understand a word, and she seemed to understand this after a moment of him staring at her incomprehensibly because she repeated back the sentence.

'The Penguin would like to hire you.' she said slightly more slowly, though it still sounded as if she was trying to make the sentence into a word.

'The Penguin?' he questioned, taken aback. He looked her over again, and it was only now that he saw the familiar white symbols painted onto her jacket. She had gotten into that gang? He found he didn't care how. 'W'as he want?'

'He wishes for you to consider working for him.' she managed to say. 'There would be food, lots more food! And, whatever else you want!'

This was a surprise, was someone really seeking to hire him? After all these years? Unless this was a trap...

'I don't trust the Penguin.' he eventually hissed. 'I've already caught several of his boys since moving down here. Though they don't come down here so much anymore. Not alone anyway.'

'He sent me to recruit you, I can ask them if I can bring more food, would that change your mind?' she asked, wide eyes darting in every direction but his own.

He took his time in answering, flicking a few odd bones aside as he continued his meal, leaving her to stand there waiting for his reply. She seemed sincere, frightened for her own life anyway. And then he realised the connection; she hadn't come down here voluntarily, she had been sent down.

Abruptly he chuckled. 'If you return without me, they'll kill you, won't they, little rat?'

She didn't immediately answer, her expression said everything for her though.

'...Th-that is irrelevant.' she stuttered. 'Will you consider the Penguin's proposal? He is seeking all the power he can get, you'll be rewarded justly.'

_'_Your fancy words don't do you any favours, rat.' Croc continued, now fully disregarding the crushed bony remnants of his meal. 'I know of Penguin's collection, and I'm not going to end up shot and stuffed in a trophy case.'

'I'm sure you wouldn't-'

'And I'm always hungry.' he was now crouched, as if about to pounce, and to his amusement she stumbled back a few further steps. 'A little man in makeup told me to eat any "birds" I might find down here.'

'You already work for the Joker?' she asked uneasily. 'I'm sure the Penguin can offer you a better deal...'

Croc was pretty sure anyone could strike a better deal than the Joker could. And like most deals Croc had made, it had fallen through, the gang had not kept their side of the bargain - they were supposed to stay out of the subway, but they still passed through, and they were always armed. And it hadn't helped that the deal hadn't been struck with the head honcho either, but some one armed henchmen who had spoken of being part of a carnival - he had been taken aback at being talked to as an equal, and made a choice without thinking it through.

But it hadn't meant nothing, and it didn't mean anything now. They had not kept their word and he certainly wasn't going to keep his, especially not if there was a better deal up for grabs. But what were the hidden costs? Nothing ever came easy. He had nothing to lose but his own life, and he wasn't so willing to gamble with that. Everyone either wanted to use him or wanted him dead, and he had no certain way of knowing which of these two options the Penguin was considering.

'There's food...' she offered weakly again, eyeing him warily as she waited for a reply.

'And what sort of deal do you have, if you are so disposable that they send you down here alone?' he replied, mulling over his own predicament. 'Been looking for you for days, then suddenly you come straight to me. They sent you to die.'

'I'm not worth as much as you.' she said quickly, she was trying to maintain eye contact with him but her nerves were getting the better of her, annoying him further. 'You're much more valuable, that is why the Penguin wants you to work for him. There is food and shelter, and I'm sure that most people who join up are paid fairly.'

By her tone it was clear that she either was paid very little or not paid anything at all.

He was not going to make sure a hasty decision this time, not until he had had time to think over it. This was a big decision, it would mean that he would no longer have to scrounge a living, hiding in the sewers. But to go above ground when for all he knew there were snipers waiting on the roof for him. This would be a big change, and he didn't like change but change was inevitable._  
_

'Please! I promise the deal is genuine.' wide eyed the girl was looking up at him now, apparently taking his silence as a 'no'. 'The Joker tricked a patrol this night, people died, the Penguin wants to replace them!'

'I'm going to think about it.' he growled, narrowing his eyes, and she scrambled back another step at his tone.

'I'll pass on the message.' she said quietly, and finally she turned to go back up the tunnel, leaving him alone to pick at the bones of his meal as she broke into a run.

* * *

She ran all the way back, not looking back for fear that Killer Croc would have changed his mind and had decided that she would be on the menu that night.

When she emerged from the underground she realised she was not actually sure where she was, having relied on others more familiar with this side of town to find her way here before. She knew the Pinkney Museum wasn't far, less than five minutes walk, but as she looked around for landmarks she found nothing but features blocks of flats.

In front of her she could see the wall and it curved outwards, so she knew she had to be somewhere along the perimeter facing Gotham. After the series of frightening events she had encountered that night, Clara really didn't think there was anything more that could frighten her. She actually felt kind of numb; it was only instinct that drove her not run around yelling until she found her way back to the museum.

She listened carefully, she couldn't hear anyone nearby, but she had noticed that when on patrol or guard duty – working in any form outside the hideout really – Penguin's men were generally eerily quiet, at least compared to most of the other inmates she had run across so far. Abruptly she was struck with the idea that Penguin's snipers might even be above her, and mistake her for an intruder – shooting first, asking questions later.

Quite deliberately she stood straighter and pulled her shoulders back, hoping that it would make the symbols upon the jacket more visible. She found herself wishing that the symbols would have been painted larger and on her back as well; she didn't have the traditional get-up of the rest, the Penguin - nor anyone else for that matter - had never deemed her worthy enough to even suggest anything, she still wore what she had worn since before she had joined, right down to the bandaging around her chest that now served no purpose other than to maintain her disguise.

She wandered hopelessly for about 5 minutes, wondering if perhaps she should just take her chances and run for it. Her hideout under the old house was probably still there, as were the goods she had buried, but the cold and the uncertainty of going hungry would also certainly be there too.

It was early November now, she had yet to see any snow but the icy winds were promise enough of a harsh winter to come. There was a very real possibility that if she did go solo again that one night she would simply fall asleep and not wake up again, frozen in time in a crawlspace until the spring came and the ice melted.

Yep, that didn't sound like a very attractive prospect.

There was a sharp tap of metal against metal behind her. Clara froze, then looked back in the direction of the sound, fearing that Croc had gone back on his decision of letting her go and decided to give chase after all.

But it wasn't Croc.

She could just pick out a shape in the darkness of the empty street.

A thin, lithe man was arched up against the wall, blending nearly seemlessly with the shadows. No hat and no hair, and of the clothing she could pick out a faint red or perhaps brown, but couldn't be certain for the lighting.

But that didn't matter, immediately she could tell he was not one of Penguin's, and she could see the glint of metal within one of his hands. She knew she was in trouble.

All this happened in a matter of a few milliseconds though, for the moment her stalker knew that she knew he was there, he launched himself at her.

But hours of running, hiding and avoiding trouble paid off, and Clara leapt out of his reach in time. Behind her the man let out a hysterical wail of aggravation.

_'Come_ back, little piggy!' the man shouted. 'You must understand that your time has come!'

Pig, rat, Tony or scum, Clara really couldn't care. She ran for her life.

But the man was persistent, though Clara didn't dare look back she could hear him close behind her, breathing raggedly.

Then she slipped. One of her oversized shoes, stolen and therefore not really meant to be her size anyway, came loose on her foot and she lost her balanced.

Cold unforgiving hands grabbed at her, yanking her backwards then slamming her to the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. The maniac crouched over her, and in the faint moonlight Clara caught sight of criss-crossing patches of scars upon his skin. She almost couldn't believe it, didn't want to. It was the mass murderer, Victor Zsasz. This scenario seemed almost so unlikely that she would have ben laughing if it wasn't serious.

'Look!' he said quite jubilantly, pointing at one of his shoulders, as if nothing was wrong. 'This is where I shall place your mark, the third one gathered since the last full moon.'

Inside, part of the old Clara was sobbing and crying at the sudden inevitability of her death. But old Clara would not have survived 5 minutes in Arkham City, and she didn't plan on dying tonight._  
_

Without a further thought, she gathered every ounce of her desperate strength, and squarely punched Zsasz in the side of his face, abusing her medical knowledge and going straight for the weakest point of his skull.

It was not enough to throw him off, but enough to knock him back and make him lose his balance, and it provided her enough room to execute her next manouver, kicking him straight in the chin. But once again he didn't fall, he simply staggered.

_'_Do not fight it, for I am your only saviour!' he shouted excitedly, and Clara was somewhat satisfied to see blood between his teeth. 'I will save you!'

'Save yourself!' she spat viciously at him, prepared to fight to the death if it meant even the smallest chance of her escaping._  
_

But there was a great shadow rising behind him, which Clara immediately recognised. She found she wasn't sure if things were about to take a turn for the better or the worse.

Sensing they were not alone, Zsasz looked back over his shoulder. The next moment he was some ten feet up in the air and screaming in terror.

* * *

A/N: I cut this chapter in half, it was originally longer. I can't help but wonder if I should be making all the chapters shorter, I write fanfiction as practice for creative writing so I'm used to writing long chapters :S

**Quick summary of this chapter:**

Clara continues her journey to find Croc and recruit him for the Penguin. Managing to keep him at bay by offering of the frozen carcass she brought from the kitchens, she manages to talk to him. Croc is, as ever, suspicious, and doesn't want to be forced into making a decision. Clara reluctantly begins to head back, hoping that the message that Croc is considering his options will be enough for the Penguin.

On the way back she is ambushed by Zsasz, but at the last moment, Croc steps in.


End file.
